Crossed Wires
by Asuka Kureru
Summary: Cyberpunk, Sasukecentric. Eventually NaruSasu, Neji? Sasuke only wanted a competent tech to repair his arm. Why did it have to be that crazy fox guy? And what is the link between the Uchiha cop cyborgs and the Hyuuga corporation? OFFICIALLY ABANDONED.
1. Sasuke : Chapter 1

**Crossed Wires**

Author: Asuka Kureru (askerian (at) hotmail (dot) com)  
Fandom: Naruto (AU)  
POV: Mostly Sasuke, some Neji.  
Will eventually be SasuNaru/NaruSasu, Neji? yaoi. But it's **Sasuke-and-plot-centric first, yaoi second**.  
Genre: Futuristic AU (cyberpunk yay)

Notes: Updates will be SLOW, and there's a moderately high probability of the fic getting abandoned.

1) my main priority is the Teamwork universe, and I don't always feel in the mood to write cyberpunk anyway,

2) This fic started as a one-shot. I'm still working on the overall plot -- I know what happens, what happened, and sort of what should happen next; I just don't know _how_. I don't usually write ZOMGPLOT fics and I'm not sure how to do this one justice. I'm still learning how to.

As for the great NaruSasu versus SasuNaru debate: who tops doesn't matter to this story. The PLOT matters to the story. The Naruto/Sasuke interaction matters to the story. Who turns into a masterful god of pleasure in bed _doesn't_. That you prefer one of them on top during sex is one thing; but in my opinion there should be NO difference, between narusasu and sasunaru fics, in their behavior out of bed. For me, they're still the same people, regardless of who sticks it in whose pooper. If you feel otherwise, I don't think this story is for you, especially since there will be no sex scene on FFnet anyway.

Written in present tense because I like playing with it. ;p

* * *

The place is dirty with grease and littered with rusty, outdated parts. The scrap yard is overflowing inside the wobbly hut that dares to call itself a repair shop. It doesn't inspire trust, especially for one used to clean, smooth whiteness and diligent attendants with shining white teeth and a shinier suit. 

The man who trudges out of the hut manages to inspire more distrust than his whole property does. He's dressed in baggy, glaring orange pants and a tight net shirt that wouldn't look out of place on a Silversnow druggie, and he's not even equipped with a basic datajack -- his muscled neck is only marred by a smudge of dirt, no cybernetic port anywhere in sight. And on top of that, he's a goddamn furry.

Sasuke, though, doesn't have a choice -- because the smiling, clean attendants only have the latest models, and don't have a clue how to help him.

"Yeah?" the furry drawls out, coming to a stop a few feet away. He stands with his fingertips hooked in his back pockets, spine and shoulders loose; his thick tail floats behind him, his golden, triangular ears lazily tracking the sounds a stray cat is making as it hunts a rat through a crumbling hovercar. If that's how he greets clients, Sasuke understands why his yard looks like a field of garbage.

His blue eyes have cat-slit pupils. Sasuke wonders where he got the money to pay for that kind of alteration -- eye surgery is a lot more expensive than sticking ears on, unless one doesn't mind ending up blind for the sake of coolness.

"Oi, I'm waiting."

Sasuke scowls. The guy's rude, too. "I was told you might have Uchiha parts."

"Huh, maybe I do, at that. Whadd'you need that for? Research? Museum?"

Sasuke's fists clench, and then his left hand spasms and he can feel his arm seize up for a few seconds. A warning message is flashing in the corner of his eye. Fuck. "Personal use," he sneers. "So? Will a few creds jar your memory, or did you miss a critical update?"

The furry chuckles at the use of metalhead slang, and smirks, baring disturbingly pointy canines. "Personal use. Right. Whatcha gonna do with it, tech-boy, build it a shrine? Masturbate to its lost glory? You geeks are all the same."

Sasuke really regrets the fact that giving that dick a good electrical shock will probably fry his own circuits. Besides, his accumulators are too damaged to let him dredge up much power. It wouldn't do to have to be carried back to his hotel because his limbs stopped working.

"I need them," he hisses, "to repair my fucking arm."

His censor flashes yellow at him in the corner of his eye, but he deactivates the subprogram with an angry mental slap. He's been discharged. He isn't property of the Konoha police anymore. He's free. He doesn't need to stay polite with the public.

Furry-boy's eyes narrow, his tail stilling, and for a second he almost looks smart enough to be that cyber tech they directed Sasuke to -- but Sasuke forgets the flash of wary expectance the second the man pokes him in the shoulder.

He has claws. Sasuke had to unscrew plates to get at the wiring, to keep from frying anymore circuits. Putting his claws in the middle of the disconnected wires gets the blond furry a mild shock; what it gets Sasuke is eleven long seconds of total lockdown as his body frantically reroutes power to keep from overloading.

"Whoops, sorry," the moron quips as he ruffles his blond hair in what looks like a token effort at sheepishness. "But... Fuck. I thought there were no more models like you. Didn't they stop making you guys after that one went berserk?"

Sasuke grits his teeth. At least the blond doesn't look utterly astonished; the last time someone found out he was an Uchiha model, he was treated to ten minutes of gaping and confused babbling. The news coverage was particularly intense; expected, since the country ended up losing one fourth of its policemen in one little month of total panic.

"They did. I am the last functioning Uchiha unit, and I require replacement parts, which they are not manufacturing anymore for obvious reasons. You will find me some or I will break your face for poking your fingers in my circuits. Roger?"

The furry only looks amused. Sasuke wonders if the idiot even knows how many ways he could kill him, and slaps down yet another warning flash. Unjustified use of lethal force against civilian yadda yadda -- he's not a cop anymore. He can unjustify anything he wants. Dumb subroutines. He hates that auto-restore feature.

"Man, they didn't bother with the politeness pack, did they?" Before Sasuke can skewer him on his elbow blade, the blond continues. "I tell you what... I have a few spares lying around. I'll have to salvage a bit since I doubt I have a complete hand-arm-shoulder section, so that might take time..."

"Name your price." You fucking bastard.

"Nah, this is a challenge, and I'm bored. I won't even charge you for anything but the pieces." His eyes gleam, and Sasuke's alert subroutine starts whispering in the back of his mind. "So long as you let me get a good long look at what an Uchiha unit is supposed to be like when it's functioning."

Sasuke turns around and walks off.

He only gets a few meters away before the furry follows, jogging to stand behind him and the exit. "Hey, hey, What's the matter? You shy or what? Don't tell me no one's ever seen you naked." The blond leers, ears flicking forward. Sasuke briefly thinks that it must be a while since he had them grafted on -- that kind of muscle control on animal implants is something that only comes with years of practice.

"You are not authorized to view --" Sasuke shakes his head briefly, beating down the automatic response -- fuck, fuck, FUCK these subroutines. "My innards," he says instead, drawling contemptuously as if that could erase what he couldn't hold back, "are classified. No deal."

The blond watches him in silence for a few seconds, and then he smirks. His fangs must be unpractical; humans have no need for such prominent canines. Sasuke bets he drools in his sleep and bites his tongue a lot.

"If you let me tinker around with them -- I promise to put everything back exactly the way I found it -- I'll arrange to exorcise the ghost programming."

Sasuke stares at him. How -- how? How did he guess -- could he really -- FUCK! His blades rip through his clothes, springing from his elbow and arm as he switches into combat mode without meaning to.

"That statement is a violation of the Prohibition Against Disruption of the Internal Processes of a Law Enforcement Unit." God, he doesn't want to arrest the blond -- " Under the mandates of subclause b, I am fully authorized to contain you and bring you into the proper law officials" -- he's the only guy Sasuke ever found who looked as if he might know of a way to help -- "If you resist I am authorized under subclause 4c to use lethal force." -- but even now, even when he's supposedly free, his self still gets put away like a bothersome piece of furniture whenever the army subroutines are tripped. And he knows how long hackers caught committing a felony survive in prison.

The blond jumps back and lifts his hands defensively; Sasuke's body reaches for him. His damaged arm twitches and a few sparks fly off. It upsets his balance just long enough that he manages to pause -- though he knows it won't be long enough to let the furry run...

Darkness.

Light.

Sasuke stares at the dirty skylight, puzzled. There's rust on the edge of the panels making up the ceiling. He tries to sit up, and he can't. Did he lose so much power he was put on standby mode ? He wouldn't awaken before he regains enough for simple movement. Unless, of course, that, too, is faulty.

"Awake, prettybot?"

A widely grinning face appears in his line of vision. Sasuke's hand stays at his side, even despite how badly he wants to reach out and strangle the son of a bitch. His hand stays at his side, and his legs refuse to move -- in fact, he can't move anything but his face.

"I am going to kill you."

The moron is laughing so hard he has to lean on... whatever it is Sasuke is lying down on. Bed? Table?

"I was kidding, Jesus. Lighten up. So I've started cleaning up the superficial programming, but I didn't want to reach too deep without your consent, so I just froze them for a little while. You better not reboot anything before we're done negotiating, or we'll be fucked in a not-fun way."

Sasuke glares as the guy walks around in the room doing god knows what, and wonders why the hell he would bother putting himself at risk that way. Maybe he's honestly that bored -- maybe he's honestly that crazy for all things mechanical, if risking his life seems like an acceptable tradeoff for a look at Sasuke's circuits.

"And if you can't feel your left arm, it's normal," the blond adds with a wide grin. Sasuke stares at the idiot as he waves Sasuke's arm at him from the other end of the room. "Man, what did you do with it? It's a wonder you didn't explode. It looks like you grabbed a high-voltage wire. Everything inside is melted. Doubt I can even salvage the framework."

Sasuke glares more. He doesn't know what to feel. On one hand he knows faulty parts have to be changed. On the other hand, he lacks a part of his body. There's a big gap in his perceptions where feedback from his arm should be, and it's not. It's unsettling.

"So, since you're unable to move, let's talk payment a bit more."

Sasuke is kind of glad Uchiha minds are unhackable. The superficial area isn't where he keeps his bank codes and other stuff, and it's the only one any outsiders can reach. He's pretty sure if the blond could have looted him and left him to rust in a corner of his yard, he would have. Most hackers, weirdly, don't really consider AIs to be real people. Contrary to common people who only see the surface -- other people looking and behaving like humans -- hackers know exactly what kind of programs imitate Life inside their heads. For them, an AI is pseudolife only. Sasuke would be terminated, not murdered. It's not a big fucking difference from his point of view.

"For changing your arm, I want permission to see your body, inside and out. I'll need to see a good part of it anyway, when I recalibrate and stuff."

Sasuke is glad he can't shudder. Being seen naked is frustrating enough, but being seen without his access panels, with his wiring and motors and joints exposed? It would be way worse.

But it's that or going armless. "... Fine," he growls, and dearly regrets his blades.

"You didn't tell me what you did with your arm."

"No, I didn't." Sasuke is trying to keep track of the blond's movements. He's walking around and moving stuff, but Sasuke can't turn his head to watch him.

"Oh, come on, don't be an ass. I need to know if it was external or not -- and there's some really weird circuitry here, I have to know if I should keep it or change it for better insulated stuff."

Sasuke grits his teeth. The guy already knows enough classified stuff to justify his death. What's one more time?

"It was internal. High-voltage jolt. I was supposed to use it twice a day maximum. I used it three times. My arm overloaded. Enough info?" he grits out. The Chidori is one of the most secret weapons of the Uchihas. No one should see it and live. But then, he thinks to appease absent subroutines, the idiot hasn't seen it yet. Just heard about it. There's a difference. It's subtle, but it's here. He hopes it will be enough.

"What kinda voltage?"

"You don't need to know."

"I can guess anyway," the furry replies with a weird tone in his voice. "To make that kind of metal alloy melt... Fuck, that's some serious firepower." He sighs like a schoolgirl holding her crush's letter jacket, and Sasuke cringes inwardly. If that bastard does anything inappropriate, Sasuke will stuff his stupid blond furry tail up his ass.

And to think he had the gall to call Sasuke a geek earlier.

"I've isolated the damaged circuits so they won't cause you trouble. If you think you can manage the stabilizing program I used on these pesky subroutines on your own, I can reconnect you now. I'm done taking out the bad stuff anyway. Just promise you won't touch anything in my shop."

Sasuke's upper lip curls up in disgust. "I don't _want_ to touch anything."

The blond snickers as he types a few commands on a handheld datapad. "It's in the folder named narutorulz. Just keep it running with at least twenty-seven percent priority, or else your subroutines will swarm it."

"I suppose Naruto is you," Sasuke grunts as he takes control of his body again. Toes wriggling, check. Temperature gauges, check -- and damn, but that metal slab he's lying on is freezing. Disturbing lack of feedback from his missing arm, check. Everything seems as okay as it's supposed to be, which isn't all that okay -- but at least it isn't worse.

"Yup. Uzumaki Naruto. I don't suppose your name is actually prettybot," the idiot adds with an attempt at a leer that would be more disturbing and less annoying if he wasn't trying not to snicker.

Uchiha android, Genin model, specializations : Stealth, Assassination, number seven. UG-7-SA. "Uchiha Sasuke."

The smile on the moron's face is weirdly worrying. "So. Show me your stuff."

"Show me you have the parts," Sasuke snaps back as he sits up cautiously.

Naruto laughs and waggles his eyebrows. "Oh, I have them. Seriously, what's telling me that you won't try to knock me out and run off with them?"

"If I could install them myself, I would."

The blond grins, fangs bared. "Well at least you're honest. I like that."

He disappears through a door that Sasuke assumed was just a particularly badly assembled part of the wall. There are noises of cupboards opening and heavy stuff shuffled around, then the fox-guy reappears, carrying -- is that Tupperware? God.

"Here. Three left arms, two right, a left foot and a right knee. And a few fingers, and wires and stuff."

Sasuke doesn't ask how he came into possession of these, when all Uchiha units are supposed to be destroyed entirely upon termination. The reply would undoubtedly push the capabilities of the little program.

"There was a spine too, but I lost it gambling -- and ain't that an interesting story all on its own," the blond adds, mumbling.

Sasuke scowls, and tries not to wonder if he knew the unit in question. "It would be useless anyway; those parts are not interchangeable."

"Ah. Parts like what?"

"The chest, the head, the spine."

"Mm, must be where the central units are located. Okay, so I showed you my stuff. Now show me yours," the blond snickers.

Sasuke sneers. So childish, to still laugh at such crude innuendo. He gets on his feet -- and his shirt slides off his empty arm socket. Apparently it had been draped over his chest for modesty's sake, a courtesy that takes him by surprise coming from that tactless prick -- not that he thinks for one second that Naruto nobly refused to peek while he could. Refusing to wonder about it, Sasuke let the shirt slide off his other arm, catching it and flinging it on the metal worktop.

Then he activates the hardening of the syntheskin over his upper body. The pseudocells solidify and lock together, kept in carefully interlocked plates by the low electrical current he's emitting. The color shifts from pale flesh to dull metal gray, the alloy molding itself to the contours of what's underneath. It's not perfect; there are some places where he can't reroute power because they're too close to damaged areas. But it's good enough for show-and-tell anyway.

Naruto doesn't say anything for a few long seconds, which surprises Sasuke. He arches an eyebrow, and stares until the blond shakes his head and grins.

"Whoa. Neat. How does it work -- electrical charge, right?"

Sasuke grunts. If he knows, why does he ask?

"Can I touch?"

"No."

"I would think you didn't feel it when in that ... state...?"

"Armor shift."

"Yeah, well--"

Sasuke decides that answering his infernal curiosity may actually keep him quiet. He can always try. "I don't. I feel pressure over five kilograms per square centimeter, that's all." Meaning I could go through you and barely notice, he thinks at the guy, but of course the subtext goes totally ignored.

"So why?" the blond retorts, almost bouncing on the balls of his feet. His tail is waving, fucking waving. Sasuke wants to kick him.

"I don't want you to," he snaps, aggravated.

"Oh, come on, I touched you when you were in... skin shift, is it?"

"And I didn't want you to, then, either."

"Ah, but it felt nice, almost like human skin."

Almost? Sasuke thinks. The illusion is supposed to be perfect. Before he can ask, though, the idiot starts badgering him again.

"Come on, I just want to know. I've never seen an alloy like this before. What is it?"

"Classified."

"Neat name," Naruto replies sarcastically. "But seriously. Is it slick? Slightly scratchy? Does it feel strange from being skin-like part of the time? What temperature?"

Sasuke answers out of pure self-defense -- he's starting to get lost under the onslaught of questions. "... A few degrees above room temperature right now. You might feel a slight tingle from the charge.

"... Neeeaaat. Can I touch?"

"I told you so you wouldn't have to!" Sasuke snaps, annoyed.

"Yeah, but I'm a tactile kinda guy. Things never feel real to me until I can get my hands on them."

Sasuke gives him a dark glare. "Enough. Repair that arm now." He leans over the metal table to pick up his shirt again. He adjusted to the lack of arm already, gyros compensating automatically, but he still feels out of balance. It's unnerving. He doesn't like being unnerved. If the irritating furry bothers him again, he's going to shove him through a wall.

Not that the rusty metal sheets that make up the shack's walls would resist enough to make it that much of a threat.

He stays silent for a few minutes, watching as the blond starts assembling parts, checking if they fit together.

"How long is it going to take you?"

Naruto doesn't look up. "Dunno, but a few days for the temporary arm, and at least a week or two for the real one."

"Then I'm going to come back tomorrow."

"Nope. You're staying here. I want to be able to ask questions or take measurements if I need them. Besides, if you lose control I'd rather have you where I can keep an eye on you, because I'll never see you coming otherwise. I'd rather have some advance warning in case I need to subdue you."

Sasuke's upper lip curls. So it wasn't an accident earlier. "How did you do that anyway?"

Naruto grins. "Classified," he sing-songs, his finger dancing along the little melody. Sasuke growls in annoyance, and the blond grimaces at him. "Not gonna tell you. If you figure out a way around it, I'm gonna be in deep shit."

That's a good point, so Sasuke resigns himself to never know.

"You can sit on one of the work benches. Just make sure the piles of stuff you move stay in piles, or I'll never find them again."

Sasuke wonders if the idiot is trying to pretend that this mess is actually an organized mess. A few of the stacks look like they've fallen onto each other at some point and no one bothered to right them, so he seriously doubts that is the case.

"Unnecessary." He locks his knees and stands, perfectly balanced. He wants to cross his arms, but at the moment it's not possible. It only irritates him more.

He closes his eyes, and starts examining the idiot's program more closely.

It's... interestingly innovative, but also quite clumsy and blatant. Sasuke spends a good half-hour copying it, then modifying bits and pieces of his copy and running simulation tests. He's not about to use one of his new modifications instead of the old program, though -- can't risk it right now -- but he saves them anyway. He's not much for programming, but being an android, he kind of doesn't have a choice; that's something he has to know how to do. Besides, it keeps him from being too bored.

When he opens his eyes, it's to realize that the blond furry is watching him, scratching absently at his tattooed cheeks.

"Who did your aesthetical specs anyway? You've got one of the prettiest faces I've ever seen on a bot."

Sasuke blinks, and catches himself searching through his database before he even realizes it.

"So?"

"... I... don't know. Shut up. Shouldn't you concentrate on what you're doing?" The idiot is soldiering together a few pieces. They are not attached to Sasuke, and yet he still winces. It will be his arm at some point; he'd rather not have it crooked.

"It's mostly mindless stuff right now. I'd listen to my music usually, but you're here, so... Talk to me!"

"No."

"You're already talking, so just keep going. Just find something more interesting."

"… No."

"Come on. Or else I'll call you prettybot all the time."

Sasuke's eyes land on a visibly ancient computer part, and he reaches out to touch it casually. "Is that thing frail?"

"AHH!" Naruto jumps out of his seat and tears the component away, putting it down with exaggerated care on the bench at his side. "Think I'll call you bitchybot instead."

"Work."

"No. Nahnahnah, you can't make me."

Sasuke reaches for another obviously frail component. Naruto glares, ears flattening back on his head.

"Hey, d'you want me to make your arm or not?"

"Yes, which is why I want you to stop chatting."

The blond glowers at him. "Chatting doesn't prevent me from doing a good job. So consider it part of your payment or something. It's not as if I'm making you cough up your creds."

Sasuke would rather cough up his creds than talk about himself. Because the first thing everyone wants to know when they learn what he is, is ask how he managed to survive the massacre.

"... Fine," he agrees reluctantly, and braces himself.

"So, you got a girlfriend?"

Sasuke blinks. That… wasn't what he was expecting. "No."

"Boyfriend?"

"No."

"Interested in either? Or are you AIphiliac only?"

"… no. To both questions," Sasuke adds before Naruto can ask.

"Oh, abstinent then?"

"...Yes." More like asexual, really, but that's no one's business but his own. He identifies with the male gender because of his personality more than because of his aspect -- if he was in a girl-type body it wouldn't change who he is. He would still be a he -- psychological gender doesn't involve sexual identity at all.

Besides, sexual organs don't belong on a police bot. He could have them installed now that he's a civilian, but he never really found the time to bother with such inconsequential things.

"... Do you like Mika or Lily better?"

"Huh?"

"Fighting Bimbos -- the show with all the babes rolling around in the mud -- okay, you don't watch that. You should, though; it's funny as hell."

Sasuke grimaces. He bets the guy doesn't watch it because it's funny.

"...They have all these gladiator shows..."

"They're fake," Sasuke snaps back, annoyed.

"Eh?"

"The fights. I could beat them all. Weaklings don't interest me."

Naruto laughs. "Hey, is there anyone you can't take down? You're an Army release."

"Even without my weapons, I'd win. They're pathetic. I've met better fighters in the slums--" Sasuke realizes that he's relaxing, talking, and scowls, falling silent suddenly.

"Heh. Yeah, you prolly have, at that." The furry watches him, thoughtful, then grins. "Anyone ever came close to winning?"

"Two on one, yes."

"Whoa. Still good."

"...They weren't even augmented," Sasuke admits. Because it doesn't belong in a report, but it stays in the back of his mind anyway. They were strong, and he had to kill them in the end. He... regrets. They were worthy opponents.

Naruto whistles, amazed. Sasuke could be annoyed, but he figures they'd take that as a mark of respect for their abilities, disrespectful as it sounds on the surface.

There is no more conversation for a few minutes after that, for which Sasuke is grateful.

"So. Is there a chance the guy will come after you again?"

Sasuke stares. What the hell is the idiot talking about now?

There's no hint on the blond's face, seeing as he's carefully staring at the wire he's soldiering in place. "Serious firepower here."

"... your point?"

"Someone took that serious firepower twice. And it so wasn't enough that you risked exploding to make sure the guy stayed down. So will he be coming after you again, or is there no need to sleep with my hand on a shotgun?"

"A shotgun would be useless anyway," Sasuke mutters back.

Naruto gives him a disturbed look. "... I... have a sorta feeling this means he's not dead yet."

Sasuke hesitates, then figures he's said a lot already. It won't make that big a difference. "... No. He's not. But he shouldn't be coming after you. Just stay out of the way."

"I'm not letting a murder be committed on my turf, prettybot. If that guy comes after you, I'm helping and that's it."

... Murder? But -- he's an android. Naruto's not supposed to care.

"There's no 'letting' about it. I doubt he'll come after me, but if he does, you are to stay out of the way. I'll arrange to lead him elsewhere--"

"No, you won't!"

"Yes, I fucking will. This isn't your business. This isn't anyone's business but my own."

The fox-furry watches him, one ear angled toward him, the other flipped down on the side in confusion. "... Huh. You sure he'll have scruples whacking random onlookers?"

Sasuke snorts. "Oh, he won't have any if they get in his way, but I was the one who came after him, not the other way around. And I won't attack him anywhere near people, so you're safe."

Naruto freezes and stares at him. He's frowning. "You're the one going after him?"

"... Yes."

"You know, I'm not sure I want to help you kill a man just for the fun of it."

Sasuke twitches. Naruto's getting the wrong idea -- but Sasuke doesn't want to tell him the story, not even if it will cost him his arm.

They stare at each other for a few seconds.

"... Is he, like, a menace for society?"

Sasuke hesitates. He wants to say yes, but Naruto deserves a more complete, more complicated answer. "Maybe. He was, at some point."

"He's wanted?"

"... No. He should be," he admits, forcing himself, "but no."

"So you're doing that because you were a cop?"

"No. I have to do it."

"You... have to. But it's not for the State." The furry frowns again.

Sasuke shakes his head. "Maybe. I have to, that's all."

"... Because of your programming? Or --"

Sasuke hesitates again. Ah, what the fuck. He already said too much. "... no. No, not because of my programming. Just because of me."

"Revenge? That's a very..." The furry looks at him for a long while, then smiles awkwardly. "Very human path to take." He sits in silence for a few minutes, and Sasuke waits, trying not to show how tense he is.

"I suppose... you won't tell me."

"No."

"Then I have to trust that it was for a good reason. So... I'm trusting you. But if you use that arm to kill an innocent, I'm coming after you to take it back -- and I don't fucking care if I have to take your head off too."

The threat sounds rather empty -- flesh against metal, it's a no-brainer. Somehow, though, Sasuke doesn't feel like smirking in reply. Not only because Naruto sounds perfectly serious. Because... heh.

He nods solemnly, accepting the promise. Naruto watches him a few seconds longer, then nods back, and goes back to his repairs.

The shop stays silent for a few long minutes, and then the furry starts whistling showtunes. Sasuke holds on for a whole hour and seventeen minutes before starting to search desperately for an acceptable subject of small talk -- anything that will make him stop that infernal whistling.


	2. Sasuke : Chapter 2

The plot needed some more nudges, so I've added new stuff at the beginning, up until "how does it feel?". Didn't change the rest, though.

If it's your first read, don't pay attention to this note. XD;

* * *

It's complicated to read the newspapers with one hand, and without disturbing Naruto, who is currently fine-tuning his temporary arm. But he's not allowed to use his Ethernet connection as long as the program to keep his army subroutines down is working; his subroutines might auto-update, so paper it is.

Tensions with other continents -- Noramerica is trying to pressure Eurasia into accepting Switzerland's secession. Eurasia is sneering back about Noramerica needing to take care of their own frontiers, because the way it's going, in another ten years even the North pole will belong to Suramérica.

Corrupted officials -- only a scandal because of the toddler prostitution angle; nowadays it's about as common to find a politician who never accepts bedroom bribes as it is to find a unicorn that doesn't come from a genetic lab.

Gang wars -- a minute of silence today in the next town over to pay respect to Song Jianguo, leader of the Song family and Protector of the City, fallen in an ambush. As far as Triads go, he wasn't too bad, Sasuke guesses.

Ordinary crimes -- _Spontaneous Deaths... Or Murders? Autopsies Indicate Beach Deaths Related._ Huh. Four deaths so far; no outward, visible sign of violence. Sasuke would suspect some kind of poisonous animal, or perhaps a strange new virus, but if he trusts the journalist, the leaked autopsies hint at some mysterious kind of foul play. Bah. Too much sensationalism, not enough info.

_The Magic Touch -- Medium Identifies Tsar Ivan The Great __Inkpot!_

"Don't you have anything but tabloids with delusions of grandeur in the area?" he grouches, dumping the newspaper on the table.

Naruto snickers. Sasuke falls silent, but Naruto doesn't try to fill the void. Sasuke glares at him for it, but he doesn't notice, bent over Sasuke's shoulder.

Damn it, he's bored. He never realized how often he casually accesses his Ethernet connection until he wasn't allowed to do it anymore.

"How does it feel anyway?" Sasuke asks out of the blue, as he watches Naruto fix the platex cover on his shoulder. The skin tone is a little different from his own, and the quality ... Well let's say platex isn't worth a tenth of what syntheskin would cost to Sasuke, but then he's a bit low on funds at the moment.

Naruto arches an eyebrow at him and hums questioningly, the screwdriver in his mouth wobbling dangerously.

"The syntheskin. Earlier you said it felt _almost_ human. It's supposed to be perfect."

Naruto blinks, then chuckles and pokes at Sasuke's shoulder in various points, glancing at the readings on his handheld datascreen. "How's that feel?"

Naruto, Sasuke thinks with faint annoyance, can read the numbers just fine on his own. Maybe they don't speak to him clearly enough. Maybe he's just weird like that. Sasuke struggles to find an adequate comparison. "Like I'm wearing a space suit."

"Eh, best I could do. Besides I'm not that great at aesthetical details; you should be glad there's no huge scar or weird folds or anything. Dumb skin joints... Gimme gyros and motors any day," the blond grumbles, furry ears flicking dismissively.

Sasuke ignores his mutterings; by now, he has learned not to pay attention to Naruto's tangents. Or at least pretend like he isn't paying attention. It's hard to tune him out, but that's no reason to _encourage _him.

"You didn't answer."

"Yeah, still wondering why you're even remembering that. Wanna try to get enough creds to replace the whole thing?"

Sasuke snorts. "I'm not replacing the syntheskin I have. No other material comes even close to offering as much protection."

"Not true. There's that Half-Mithril stuff..."

Sasuke gives him a long, unconvinced look. "... It's armor, not skin."

Naruto snickers, furry ears angling toward Sasuke. "Right. You wouldn't look as pretty with a helmet-head."

Sasuke frowns. He could list the comparatives in speed, mobility, and the ability to blend in -- a few alloys are harder, true, but it means heavier; it would hinder him too much. Besides, he's not a fan of getting stared at. He likes knowing that he's virtually indistinguishable from a real, flesh-and-blood human, he likes trusting in the fact that no one ever guesses.

Okay, it might be because they think he's too much of a dick to be an Artificial Intelligence.

Sasuke just doesn't see why he should make an effort at not seeming cynical and aggressive. He sees things for what they are. Trusting is an unacceptable risk -- unless he has them by the balls, metaphorically or otherwise; and if something is in his way, he removes it, no questions asked. He doesn't see why pretending to be otherwise would make things go more smoothly... Except with sensitive bleeding hearts, and he doesn't want to interact with that kind of naïve person in the first place.

If anything, Naruto has him by the balls, rather than the other way around, and Sasuke doesn't much like it -- he can't stand being forced to rely on people, especially people he doesn't know and who have no legal obligation to do their best for him. But the probability of the furry being dishonest is dropping every hour. If Naruto wanted to hack him or sell him for parts, he would have had many occasions to do so.

Then again, the idiot might simply not be hurting for money, contrary to what his dilapidated junk yard would indicate, so he can actually afford to work for the price of the materials he's using, just to satisfy his curiosity. As unlikely as that seems.

Or he's just waiting for a reply from a potential buyer, and prefers to keep Sasuke functioning in the meantime so he can gather more data.

"Haha. You look like that Frankenstein guy. Who'd have thought there would be Uchihas with such dark skin?"

... or he's just a hyperactive idiot savant.

Sasuke's new temporary arm, the one that isn't his own, is tanned. Not horribly so, but nothing to do with either the delicate rosy color of the platex joints, or his own pale Asian skin.

He flexes it, testing the way it responds. Huh. There's a slight lag, and it's not perfectly symmetrical to his original arm; he has to adjust his movements by a few millimeters. The arm doesn't have blades or the necessary conducts for the Chidori, the syntheskin is an older version than his own and doesn't respond all that well, and the forearm bones had to be readjusted; he can feel the slight bend in the metal. But it will let him go out and find a job, so that he can earn more creds and pay Naruto back, while the furry works on fine-tuning his permanent arm. Then hopefully Sasuke can get a better skin job.

In the meantime, long-sleeved shirts are good, and maybe gloves as well. The patchwork look isn't the best way to pass for a human... Which reminds him of his previous question, still unanswered.

"...In which way is it different from human skin?" he asks again, staring at his new hand.

Naruto blinks at him, scratches at the base of his furry ear. "Ehh. Apart from the 'no moles, no real hairs' thing? Well for one thing it's freaky that you don't have scars -- and I'm not talking huge things across your face, I mean not even a pockmark from a zit or anything..."

"That's a visual clue, not a tactile one; besides I could have had plastic surgery," Sasuke interrupts him impatiently. "To the touch, how is it different?"

"Well. You have veins, or at least there are places where your skin's a bit blue and bumpy -- and crap but that's cleverly done -- but it responds to pressure just the same as the rest of your skin, and it shouldn't."

This is the sort of difference in pressure that Sasuke is unable to pick up on. It's just that subtle. It makes sense, though.

"Besides -- I dunno. No heartbeat."

"You can't feel _that _through skin," Sasuke replies with a snort.

"Consciously, no," Naruto agrees with what passes for him as a pensive look. "There's still this niggling feeling that something's missing. You're just that tiny bit too still. Humans are never this steady."

"You knew what you were looking for, that's all," Sasuke replies, dissatisfied. Ah well, it means that normal humans really can't tell, right? At least so long as they don't get to see the repairs.

"Heh, maybe. Or maybe you're just too pretty to be true."

"Should I add some false scars?" Sasuke asks cynically.

"Nah, then you'd look like a pretty bad boy. Now you just look like a pretty emo boy."

"You have a fixation on my face."

Naruto snickers. "It's just funny to see something like that on someone who couldn't care less. Uchiha units had to infiltrate sometimes right? Why didn't they give you an average-looking face? I mean, it's kinda hard not to notice you."

"I was in service in the upper layers," Sasuke replies wearily.

There's no use hiding that sort of little details from Naruto; he just nags and nags until the secret seems worthless compared to a few minutes of silence.

"Oh. Right. You'd have attracted attention just for not being scorching hot," Naruto mutters, rolling his eyes -- presumably at the foolish, self-centered, filthy rich people who spend half their lives on operation tables. As if his ears, and eyes, and fangs, and tail had come to him in the night, by magic.

Sasuke looks away, flexes his arm again, testing the way the false skin holds on at the shoulder. Huh -- it's going to crease. Hopefully he won't keep it long enough for that.

It's... good, not to be one-handed anymore. He runs his fingers up his new arm, testing the skin. He can't feel much of a difference, his sense of touch just isn't that refined. He's envious, briefly, but he has other advantages, doesn't he?

Naruto is watching him. Sasuke arches an eyebrow. The blond looks thoughtful; that's a weird look on him. "What?"

"Nah, nothing." Naruto grins suddenly. "Just didn't peg you as the type to touch yourself in public."

Sasuke blinks at him for a second before he gets it. "... Oh, shut the hell up already," he growls as he picks up his shirt and puts it on. "You're obsessed. Do you ever go ten minutes without thinking of sex?"

"You just don't know what you're missing."

"Not interested," Sasuke shoots back as he picks up his coat and stomps toward the door. It isn't entirely true; he's mildly curious -- the physical pleasure and psychological aspects must be more effective than they sound, to have so many people so irrationally fascinated with them. He's not telling Naruto that, though. The idiot would only feel encouraged to tease him.

The blond grins at Sasuke, fangs bared. "If you ever get curious, just tell me. I can hook you up with the bits, free of charge."

... Apparently, though, he doesn't really need the encouragement.


	3. Sasuke : Chapter 3

Okay, who amongst you is not aware that Naruto and Sasuke are, like, TWO GUYS?

As in, **_there will be no "girl" in the relationship_**.

I'm writing about two strong, competent MEN who come with their own set of issues, problems, and personalities, here; not about a chest-beating He-Man with a twelve-inch long pole of manmeat and a breasts-less wimp who just happens to own a slightly oversized clit.

Oh, and this isn't a romance. The achievement of the pairing is going to be, at best, one of the two or three main plotlines. _And there isn't going to be ANY lemon on FFnet. Like, **NONE**._ In other words; IF YOU ONLY READ THIS TO KNOW WHO TOPS, STOP RIGHT NOW.

'Che. And then people wonder why the rabid sasunaru side of the fandom almost scared me off the pairing entirely.

Oh, and K? Here she is. :-)

* * *

Sasuke stares up at the hospital's graffiti-covered facade and sighs, despite not actually needing to breathe. The buildings are old, and not that big; and from what that nosey fox furry told him about the place, they throw out people for negligence and get hit by junkies in search of a fix all too often. It's far from these private clinics he was used to seeing in the upper part of town.

Not a lot of places will hire an ex-cop who was discharged for classified reasons, though.

Rectification. Not a lot of legal places. He could fit right in as some crime lord's bodyguard. If he actually could overcome his core programming long enough to earn his pay. Somehow he thinks that putting his own boss in prison would constitute a breach of contract.

He puts his subversive thoughts away before they can activate his subroutines; they're not really made to recognize sarcasm. One of these days he'll track down a state-licensed programmer and have them exorcise all the junk in his head...

Yeah, like when he'll have money. The bonus the State gave him when they cut him free is melting fast, and he still needs to pay that idiot Naruto for the repairs to his arm.

He didn't want to owe even more to Naruto, so he tried a couple of clubs first; the first one started laughing and told him a small human had no chance in front of a cyber-enhanced beefcake. Sasuke's ID lists him as a hundred percent human; he didn't bother spinning a story about having had implants recently. The kind of money needed to make them unnoticeable... yeah. Why the hell would he be looking for a job at a downtown club.

The second club owner told him that they had enough bouncers, but they wouldn't mind giving him another job; did he know how to dance?

Sasuke's scores at social interaction are abysmal, but he would have to be blind and deaf to miss the way she was leering at his ass.

No use stalling. He crosses the street and pushes the door open, twisting a bit to not use the hand-that-isn't-his. The temporary arm Naruto gave him works well enough for casual use, but his sensors still aren't adjusted. Besides he doesn't want people to notice the one glove he's using to hide the mismatched syntheskin.

Inside, the waiting area makes him frown; papers littering the ground, a bum sleeping on a bench. The clear plastiglass blast shield around the receptionist's desk is scratched so heavily in places that he has trouble seeing through it. At least the metal detectors look new and in working order.

He crosses the floor to the desk and taps the blue "visitors" button. The red one, "emergencies", looks well abused. Most patients probably don't come through the lobby, actually; from what Sasuke could see on the floor plans he downloaded, there's another exit for ambulances. Plus several fire exits.

"Sorry for the wait," comments a cheerful female voice from the other side. "Visiting?"

"Job application," he replies; he can see a white-and-bright-pink shape on the other side of the shield, but she's standing just behind a huge scorch mark. No identification possible.

"Alright, I'll need to record your ID in our visitors logs..."

He gives it without a word. He's not really concerned that a small hospital will have enough money to pay for the kind of search that would find anything wrong with it. It's a perfectly legal ID. It just happens to give inexact info.

Like the fact that he isn't actually a human, but an android-based AI. And the fact that he isn't twenty-one; he's ten -- but that's rather meaningless. Oh, and the name is assumed too.

"Hatake Sasuke... So... job application, yes? What exactly are you looking for?"

"Anything physical -- orderly, security. I have a first-aid certification; that's the extent of my medical knowledge."

"Yes, we don't see many doctors around here," she replies absently as she types a few things out of sight. "Okay, when are you free for an interview?"

"Whenever is most convenient."

"I'd say right now, but..."

She moves to the side, enough that he can see her chewing on her lip.

"No one is free to interview me?"

"Oh, I could do that. It isn't the problem; but Doctor Tsunade is busy and our orderlies are in the middle of -- ah."

He frowns. "You would be alone with me; is that the problem?"

"...Well... To be frank, yes. We're not supposed to let anyone but visitors inside at the moment, and even they have to be escorted to the rooms and back."

Huh. She hasn't mentioned security; they've probably been fired or killed recently. The hospital really seems to be struggling to survive. There is a part of his programming -- and of his personality too -- that doesn't like the idea of a place dedicated to the public good being run into the ground. It would probably be more tolerable to work there than at a club. But how can he get her to trust him inside...

"Do you know an Uzumaki Naruto?"

She looks up. "...You know Naruto?"

"I'm staying at his place for the moment; he's doing a job for me. Maybe he could vouch--"

"Oh, why didn't you say that sooner! A minute please, I'll call him."

She sounds a lot cheerier now. He leans against the plastiglass to watch the waiting room as she makes her call; she closed the slots and he can only hear muffled whispers. If he tried, he could probably filter out the interferences, but it seems an invasion of privacy. He just hopes, fist clenched, that the fox-furry will respect Sasuke's own privacy and forget to mention what exactly he is. That's for Sasuke to disclose or not.

"Alright, sir! Naruto vouched for you, so if you will go to the gate... What should I expect the metal detector to tell me?"

Well at least Naruto didn't babble. "...Cyborg."

"Alright. Firearms?"

"No." She doesn't mention bladed weapons; but then he isn't sure this area of town is safe enough to let most people walk around without at least that much.

"Please proceed..."

He stands in front of the door, and slips inside when it opens. The detectors flash a bit; behind the desk, he can see a bowed head and hear an annoyed mutter; "dumb piece of -- oh."

The girl is surprisingly young, about Naruto's age. She's wearing a white coat; the nametag informs him that she is Haruno Sakura, head nurse. Her hair is bubblegum pink, and she's...

... she's staring at him. Huh.

"Ma'am?"

"Miss, please," she replies breathlessly. He wonders if she feels alright; she's reddening. "Ah... If you will foll -- um. After you," she rectifies, gesturing toward a half-open door on the other side of the counter. "I'll be... right behind you."

Vaguely confused, he makes his way behind the help desk and to the other room. It's a small office, with paperwork crammed everywhere; the desk there is marked with circular coffee stains.

"Please sit down. I, uh..." She takes place in the large armchair behind the desk, and fiddles with the seat, adjusting its height. He waits, not that patiently. What the hell has gotten into her?

"So... Sasuke -- can I call you Sasuke?"

He shrugs, nods. She beams, then seems to remember that she's supposed to conduct a job interview.

"What we need the most is a security guard; at the moment the duty is shared between our two male orderlies and Doctor Tsunade herself, and we keep a tight lockdown on the visitors, but that isn't the best arrangement. But the nurses and orderlies could also do with some help, so... if you were hired, and depending on your competence, you would be called to help with whatever needs doing at the moment. We don't have a fixed post with fixed responsibilities to offer; you wouldn't be encouraged to refuse doing something because it's outside of your official responsibilities."

For a moment she looks sterner, and very professional. He nods; "I can deal with that."

She smiles at him. "Of course you will never handle medical responsibilities, and we do have cleaning ladies, but it means that if something is spilled and there's no one to clean it in a timely manner, you would be expected to mop it up."

He nods; it can't be that hard to use a mop. So long as he's paid the same.

"Your other duties would take precedence, of course. Um... what kind of jobs did you have? What kind of qualities do you think you have?"

Qualities? Uh.

"I was a police officer for two years." Six, really, but he's officially twenty-one; the legal age is eighteen. Cop at fifteen, that's a bit unbelievable.

She blinks, startled. "Ah. Can I ask why you left?"

"I was discharged." He hesitates... no, he doesn't want to invent a lie. He's not so good at these anyway. "The reason is classified. It wasn't through any fault on my part, though. I can ask for references from my superior if you wish."

She looks rather dazed. "Ah... yes, please. I... thank you for being honest... Well, if you have experience in crowd control and self-defense, you will probably end up taking up security duties. Of course we can't make that decision before the end of the trial period."

Looks like he's in. He doesn't plan on messing up the orderly part of his duties on purpose, but if they decide to relegate him to security full time to free the other orderlies, he's not going to protest. The personal qualities and abilities for medical personnel listed in his database are... well. He's physically fit, and can lift a lot more than what his size suggests he should, and he doesn't see a problem with following instructions so long as they make sense -- but the caring and supportive attitude, the good communication skills... right.

A few standard questions follow; did he ever do drugs, is his vaccination up to date and the like. He's just grateful that they're so desperate they don't ask for a blood test.

"When do I start?"

"I'll check with Doctor Tsunade first; she will want to have a talk with you, show you around and all that." She smiles at him as she picks up a phone, twirling a lock of hair around her finger.

He pretends not to listen to the conversation; but there's nothing said that requires much privacy.

"She'll be with you in fifteen minutes. Um... Do you want a coffee?"

"I don't drink coffee," he replies, and her expression falls.

"Soda? There's a distributor at the end of the hall..."

He shakes his head; he can drink, and he's even been designed to use liquids to cool his motors, but carbonated beverages aren't recommended.

"It's on me," she continues with a wide smile; he tags it as hopeful, and finally realizes that she's flirting.

"I'm not thirsty," he opposes. "... Thanks anyway."

He's not sure of the best way to deal with it. He can't be openly rude to a future coworker, especially one who will be his superior. On the other hand, even if he didn't have it ingrained that you just don't fraternize with your superiors or subordinates, he's not even equipped; not that he thinks he would automatically be interested if he actually had genitals.

A few minutes pass in silence. He made her uncomfortable; he doesn't know how to fix it. They should make conversation, but what kind of subject...

"Did you lose your other glove?"

He stuffs the hand-that-isn't-his in his pocket. "No. I... got hurt."

"Oh! Do you want me to take a look at it? I--"

"It's a cyber implant. I'm... not used to it yet." Which is almost nothing but the truth.

"Wow, really? It looks so human under the glove. Can I see?"

Reluctantly, he pulls his hand out, lets her watch the way the fingers flex, the way the wrist rotates.

"...That's... Wow. Good quality. So smooth. Um... Would it be insensitive of me to ask how you got it?"

Sasuke shrugs and refrains from telling her that he's the farthest thing from sensitive; she would only be encouraged. "It's just replacing the previous one. It broke."

"Aha! That's how you met Naruto, I bet. He's a good mechanic, isn't he."

And that's a perfect change of subject; he takes it before she can ask him if he was in an accident or just decided to go cyborg for what street kids term the Badassitude Factor. "Yes, he's ... surprisingly competent," he admitted reluctantly. "How do you know him?"

"Oh, Doctor Tsunade was an old friend of his family. I met him for the first time during my internship." She giggles, and whispers in confidence, "Something exploded in his workshop; he was thrown through a window. My first sight of him was a pair of bare buttocks with about fifty slivers of glass and wood sticking out."

Sasuke blinks, and wonders why that seems so ... fitting. It doesn't exactly inspire trust in Naruto's abilities, though.

"He kept whining about the fur on his tail being singed and torn; I decided to be nice and brush it out for him, and--" She blushes and waves it off. "Ah... nothing."

He frowns, puzzled. "Nothing?"

"Naruto had somehow forgotten to mention that his tail was something of an erogenous zone," a blonde woman comments dryly from the door.

She looks thirty, maybe, but her skin is too smooth around the eyes. Besides, Naruto called her "the old hag" several times when he was talking Sasuke into applying for a job at her hospital. If she never went under the scalpel herself, Sasuke will be surprised.

Sakura turns red and gets up quickly. "Doctor! Ah, um. This is Hatake Sasuke. Sasuke, Doctor Tsunade. I, uh, I'll go make my rounds now, if that's alright?"

"I made them," Tsunade informs her, still looking amused, and drops a pile of papers on her desk. "You can stay here and take care of this paperwork while I show Mr. Hatake around."

Pouting, Sakura sits back down. Sasuke nods at her politely as he gets up to follow Tsunade out.

The door to the office is left half-open, and sound resonates well enough for him. They're not at the other end of the tiled corridor yet, when he hears Sakura whisper quickly, "Ino? You SO need to pick me up tonight. You'll never guess the eyecandy we've hired today -- hey, I've got dibs!"

* * *

Next chapter will not be Sasuke-POV. It will not even have Sasuke or Naruto in the background. It's a character who hasn't even been mentioned here yet; apart from happening in the same world, the two plot threads don't seem to have much in common. Eventually, though, they will run into each other.

...If I get that far, for I suck. In the meantime, I have a second yaoi OTP. XD (Really need some het to balance things out...)


	4. Neji : Chapter 4

Change of POV, and -- is that the beginning of a plot? Noo.

(I really like Sakura and Ino, so I don't plan to make them nothing but clingy idiots. I'm not sure they'll have a big part in this plot yet, though. And I might technically not need to balance het and yaoi... but it always feels weird to me to read sorta-realistic fics where everyone happens to be gay. This is what I meant last time. But then this isn't the sort of fic where everyone is paired up at the end -- so far I only plan on giving screen-time to two "couples" (and I say that loosely)-- so it probably doesn't matter much.)

* * *

The first time Neji sees the assassin, it is as if all the colors in the world were drained away. White, sinfully fluffy carpet, a silhouette of dull black metal, and wet red dripping from the blades springing from the back of its hand.

White and red and black eyes. Watching him. Weighing him.

Smooth metal mask for a face. Empty eyes -- no emotions. AI?

"I take it Tanaka-san won't be coming to the speech," Neji says, barely hearing himself.

Faint surprise in its eyes now -- or wishful thinking? Anthropomorphism? Neji knows better. No emotions to appeal to -- and a dead secretary, ah, so that's why Tanaka left the gathering. Affair? Industrial espionage?

Whatever the reason, two deaths have been judged necessary. No need to ask why; no answers forthcoming. Only in bad vids do killers gloat before getting rid of the witnesses.

Neji moves between the white secretary desk and the white wall; combat stance, the fluid crouch of the Gentle Fist. The dark shape is slender; light armor, hopefully thin -- probably quick, though. At least Neji sees no gun. Maybe he'll be swift enough. He doesn't know this make; where are the weaknesses?

"Why," the assassin asks softly, "do you read as Hyuuga Hiashi?"

Neji flinches. Briefly. Barely visible; painfully obvious. He sneers in retaliation, as if the assassin cared what Neji thinks of him. The palms of his hands tingle with a suppressed charge.

The assassin glances down at them. He shouldn't be able to see.

"Why," Neji counters, not as much soft as carefully filed smooth, "do you care?"

"It might become pertinent later."

Neji hisses between his clenched teeth, and puts his feelings away. If he isn't allowed to kill the Hyuugas, no one else will.

"Who paid you?" he asks calmly, and slowly moves in the open space, where no chairs or wastebaskets will get in his way. He's still holding his crouch.

The assassin doesn't move, unnaturally still as he stands over the two crumpled bodies. He hasn't moved at all since Neji walked in. Only his long bangs flutter; the fan is still whirring softly on a desk behind him.

The computer is whirring too.

"No one."

"That was -- personal?" Neji asks; he doesn't care, he just wants something to say as he steps to the side again -- there's a cable, snaking from the computer to lose itself in a smooth black ponytail.

Outrage; he's stealing data -- whatever! He's _tethered_. Thin cable, will break easy -- might damage his ports though, that's --

"Don't."

It isn't so much the quiet order that stops him, as the amused undertones. He looks up; the face is a mask, empty and smooth and surprisingly aesthetical. The eyes are red and non-organic and mocking. This isn't an AI, is it? They don't express such subtle feelings in that way.

"I won't let you touch me."

He knows. He knows about Neji's bioelectrical implants. How? They're an exclusive of the Hyuuga corporation. Neji sneers again; he only needs to brush against the assassin's armor, just once. It's a toss-up; if he can dodge fast enough...

A blade long like his forearm springs out of the back of the assassin's other hand.

Well. Damn.

"Why do you read as Hyuuga Hiashi?" he repeats smoothly, the blade a dull black that seems to absorb the stark light of the room.

"Why don't you hack into our computers and find out?"

This time he actually snorts -- "I will. Later." -- and reaches up to free the data cable from his data port.

Neji strikes, twisting to avoid the blades lashing at him.

Neji doesn't die, because the carpet is damp with blood and his foot slips. He doesn't die and it doesn't even hurt; a line of cool dampness against the left side of his chest, ending at his shoulder. In his shoulder. Whatever. He strikes again, a knee on the floor, aiming for a leg -- touches nothing but air. The assassin leaps over, lands on a desk.

The armor is even lighter than Neji thought; the desk barely dents at all. The desk's joints groan, high-pitched enough to hurt teeth, as the assassin shifts, aims his strike. Neji climbs back on his feet; he wants to face his death standing.

Behind Neji, someone screams. The desk creaks. Neji lifts his hands -- not fast enough -- where is he?

The assassin is crouching on the edge of the window -- blades gone -- Neji doesn't know how he manages to duck the sudden jet of fire. He rolls on the carpet, bumps against the secretary's desk -- pure instinct makes him crawl in the leg space and topple it over his body.

The fire roars on the other side of Neji's shelter. The sprinklers hiss, drenching him. The alarms howl. The interloper is still screaming. He waits for a heartbeat, two, then peeks out quickly -- the window is empty.

The computer is a melted mess of plastic and metal bits. The bodies are charred. Dark smoke fills the other end of the office. Quickly -- in case the assassin is still hiding behind another desk, however unlikely that is -- Neji dashes to the door, shoving the unlucky spectator along through it.

The heavy fire doors farther down the corridor burst open; Neji pauses, long enough to be recognized, then leans against the wall as security mills around them.

He's vaguely amused that a heavy, fortysomething corporate shark could even scream that loudly.

Someone's talking to him -- security? Paramedic, the badge says. He can't hear; the siren is still howling, and

he's

sitting on the floor.

Huh. No white carpet here. Smooth marble. Cool under his hands. White and black, veined -- a red drop.

"... Oh."

Now, of course, it starts to hurt. The colors bleed back into his world; the paramedic has a forest-green armband, the corporate screamer a dark blue suit. The walls are cream. He doesn't move as the medic applies pressure to his wound. He's shivering a little. It's just shock; it will pass in a minute.

"Neji."

Hyuuga Hiashi is standing in front of him. The man looks angry, sterner than usual, as he stares at the damp, bloody, shredded dress shirt as if it was a personal affront.

Neji clenches his teeth. "You'll have a scar," he comments, maybe a bit snidely.

Something in Hiashi's face tightens. Neji is satisfied. He pushes the paramedic away and straightens up, making sure to stand straight. He doesn't want more questions, so he starts talking first; "Assassin. Light armor, male body type, killed Tanaka-san and Midori-san's secretary, before hacking into a company computer."

Hiashi's expression darkens even more, and his eyes narrow. Midori-san has heard his name, and gets into Neji's face, demanding more details. Neji would shove him away, but he can't be that impolite to the host; but Hiashi cuts his business partner short, imperious. "The boy was injured, he almost got killed. He will answer the police's questions later, when he's feeling better; for now, he's going home. Come along, Neji."

Neji pushes away from the wall, refusing the hand that one of Hiashi's bodyguards offers him, and follows on his heels. He knows he won't see the police before Hiashi and his executive board are done debriefing him. It doesn't much matter; he's used to lying to the authorities by now.

He doesn't relish the prospect of facing that bunch of old vipers. No doubt they will berate him for being reckless; did he think about how much it would cost the Hyuuga to replace him?

No. No, he didn't. He could have run, he knows he could have. There would have been a chance that the assassin wouldn't have been quick enough to catch up.

He's just a clone after all. What does it matter if he lives or dies, in the end. What does it matter to anyone but him.

He didn't run; didn't even think of it. He stayed; he fought. They can't take that away from him. He steels himself, holds close the memory of dull-black and blood-red death. The feeling of being alive. It's his, nothing but his.

He's still cold; his clothes are damp from the sprinklers, and stick to his skin. He doesn't let the bodyguard drape a vest across his shoulders as they leave the building. He sinks in the limousine's cushions and closes his eyes, and hopes he scars so thick that no surgery will ever erase it.

At least he dodged the rest of the reception.

* * *

The beginning was meant to sound disjointed; I was trying to make it feel like shock. Did it work? And if you don't understand every detail of who and what Neji is... patience, patience. ;p (I really hope I don't need to tell you who the "assassin" was. XD) 


	5. Sasuke : Chapter 5

Not thoroughly betaed by a single person; more like a half-dozen of people kindly pointed out the errors they could see at first glance. Any mistakes still left are mine. u.u;

* * *

"What d'you mean I can't go and see my buddy?"

The man towers over Sasuke, crowding him. Sasuke turns his olfactory sensors down another notch; the smell of pot and other, less easily identifiable drugs makes him want to slam the guy against the closest wall and frisk him.

"I mean, you can't go and see your buddy," he repeats, slowly, giving him an unimpressed look. The guy doesn't behave like he took anything illegal today -- yet -- but he smells like he routinely carries enough for a whole building. Right, Sasuke's going to let a dealer inside the hospital unchecked, especially with the three dopeheads the police left there after that shooting last week.

"And why the hell not? No, I think you're gonna move over right fuckin' now!"

"Dude, lay off, he's told you three times now," Naruto pipes up from behind Sasuke. Sasuke frowns; he wants to tell Naruto to pay attention to his repairs and not to the altercation. He doesn't need anyone's help. But he's not stupid enough to take his eyes off the man for even one second.

"There's no one to walk you to the room and back. The end."

"Walk me -- what am I, a goddamn toddler? Are you sayin' I'd get lost? I can find the room on my own!"

Yes, and probably a lot of other stuff. Expensive stuff. "I'm going to ask you to leave now."

"What the fuck, I'm not going to!"

Sasuke's eyes narrow. Damn his obligation to stay at least slightly polite. Oh well, it wasn't that different when he was with the police. "I will ask you a second time, and then I will make you."

The dealer scoffs and reaches for Sasuke's collar; Sasuke lets him come, and then he grabs his wrist, drops in a crouch, and sweeps the dealer's legs out from under him. A twist to the arm, and Sasuke is standing back up, with his foot firmly planted between the man's shoulder blades.

Behind him, still comfortably sprawled in the small corridor between the two wide open sets of automatic doors, Naruto claps; somewhere in the waiting room, someone whistles.

"You are going to leave now."

"Or what?" the man wheezes. "You'll call the police?"

Sasuke twists his hand, just a few degrees; the man howls.

"I'll break your arm and your legs." Another little twist, another howl; his elbow will go out before the bones break, but Sasuke doesn't really bother pointing out the distinction. "And toss you out in the street. And then, I'll call the police." He leans forward, voice soft and wiped clean of emotions; the man's spine is going to have the imprint of his shoe tomorrow. "Maybe they'll arrive before the thugs outside are done emptying your pockets."

He's mildly disappointed when the dealer starts apologizing and promising he'll leave if Sasuke lets go, no harm no foul; by now, Sasuke knows the patrol schedules and he could time it accurately enough to make the asshole bounce off the police cruiser.

Naruto starts snickering when the drug dealer is only halfway to the door; the man turns back to face them and makes a threatening gesture toward the furry. Sasuke takes a step forward. He doesn't want to get away from the doors Naruto is working on, what with both sets being stuck in open position, but he doubts he'll actually have to -- prevision correct; the exit's automatic doors swoosh open too slowly and the man almost slams into them face first as he runs out.

Sasuke gives Naruto a quick irritated look as the fox-furry snickers and starts whistling mockingly.

"Man. It's, what, the fourth time today? I'm pretty sure they're not that insistent usually. Hope the word spreads fast and they stop testing you soon..."

Sasuke crosses his arms, the one that belongs to him and the one that isn't his, and thinks that so far he could have taken any of them one-handed; but that doesn't mean he would like it. He wants his arm back -- or at the very least a better replacement than this one, one that can move without that tenth-of-a-second's lag and doesn't unbalance him, not to mention one that packs at least a tiny wrist blade and can channel a Chidori. And when Naruto is working on the hospital's metal detector-cum-portal that is the only public access to the patients and operating room, he's not working on Sasuke's arm.

"Don't get involved."

"Aw, don't talk like it wouldn't do you any good to have some backup."

"If it was actual backup, maybe," Sasuke says, and means no, it wouldn't. "You weren't helping."

"I was so helping! You don't know jack shit 'bout street talk."

"I don't need to talk 'street'," Sasuke replies with a faint smirk. "Broken bones are a universal language."

Naruto blinks up at him, and then bursts out laughing, far more loudly than Sasuke's quip deserves, in his opinion. Still, Sasuke thinks he likes his still developing sense of sarcasm, and having it validated by other people's laughter is... Not _necessary_, but good, somewhat.

The furry still laughs too loudly, and spends way too much time chatting and people-watching, and not enough repairing. "The gate, Naruto."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm working, honest."

"Not very fast." But Sasuke doesn't nag him any more than that; Doctor Tsunade is the one who called him, and she's footing the bill, true, but it's Sasuke's fault if Naruto needs to be here. Sasuke's the one who keeps making the door beep, and he can't ask for the clearance to mess with the gate's programming without telling them why.

'The gate is beeping because I'm an android, not a cyborg.' He still doesn't know his new employer's stance on A.I.s, and besides he just doesn't want to work with the stigma of being The Last Uchiha Unit (officially, that is; but he terminates the thought process before it can reach its logical conclusion). No, he's definitely not saying anything; better let Tsunade assume that the gate is buggy.

"Dude, it's all your own fault anyway," Naruto mutters to him. "You should have a jammer for that sort of stuff, what happened?"

Sasuke frowns, disgruntled, and gives a shifty-looking hobo his best death-glare. "I got discharged."

Naruto is buried elbows-deep into the bottom of the door, tinkering with the wiring; he unscrews a panel with a little 'aha!' of victory and flops on his back, pulling out his handheld datapad.

"They didn't let you keep it? Hurray for government logic I guess -- hrrm, where's that go again... Hey, when do you get out anyway?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"Just tell me, asshole."

Sasuke sighs in resigned acceptance. "About an hour and twenty minutes ago; it depends on the workload." He frowns, thinking. "The surgery must have had complications, or my relief would be here already."

Naruto grunts; in reply or in effort, Sasuke isn't sure. Then there's the faint screech of metal inserted into metal, and a few typing sounds as Naruto reprograms the gate. Sasuke stands guard, and tries to smother the subroutines trying to guilt him into going to Doctor Tsunade and explaining to her that her gate is fine; Naruto isn't so much fixing it as reprogramming it to ignore Uchiha-type androids.

Bah; it's close enough. Besides, he isn't a danger, and it doesn't seem likely that Itachi would do anything to the personnel or the patients, or damage the place.

And if he wanted to, ten gates like this one wouldn't stop him anyway...

A kick to his ankle makes him shift aside, too quickly; he bows his head, bangs falling to cover his face. He scans the room, once, twice; two butterfly knives, a hunting knife in a boot, three tazers -- no violence in anyone's body language, no noteworthy probabilities save a young woman who might trip on someone else's bag if she doesn't look down -- no threat to him or any civilians. Naruto he forcefully classifies as authorized troop support, ignoring the question of the security clearance; not a danger. Sasuke closes his eyes and disengages the Sharingan.

Fucking army programming. Itachi is not here, Itachi is not likely to come here in the near future -- no, he doesn't want to calculate the odds; Itachi's personality has always been outside predictable parameters.

Sometimes Sasuke can almost follow him; and then he remembers that nothing the crazy bastard does makes any real sense.

And if he changes his mind and decides to kill Sasuke too, Sasuke's just going to run outside and fight him on a roof, or an abandoned lot. No shortage of those around here. He prepares a few escape plans to soothe his subroutines.

"Oi, Sasuke!"

"What?"

"So you're getting out... when the other guy shows up?"

"Yes."

"Awesome! 'cause I'm almost done and I can hear someone coming down the stairs."

Sasuke blinks, startled, and sharpens his hearing. He needs to go far beyond the normal threshold to hear the soft steps of a middle-sized man descending the employees' staircase. He wonders how old Naruto was when he got the ear grafts; even when the reconstructive surgery on the ear canals is a success, the brain still doesn't adapt easily to the new influx of information.

"You have good ears," he comments noncommittally.

Naruto chuckles, still typing away. "Hey, with their size, they better be useful at more than hat racks. Seriously, I shoulda gotten cable TV with them or something. I feel cheated."

"That would mean getting a chip," Sasuke comments. He's still wondering why, even though Naruto is working at least peripherally with computers, he isn't equipped with at least a basic datajack. Maybe the blond is scared; they do cut into the skull and tinker with the brain to install it, after all.

"Yeah, maybe I should."

Naruto's voice is pleasant, but his tail is still. Hm. Change of subject. "You still haven't told me why you want to know when I get out," Sasuke reminds him.

"Oh yeah! I'm going out with my friends tonight --"

Oh. Bah, Sasuke puts himself in doze mode in the repair shop most of the time, anyway. "I can deactivate your security measures--"

"No, no, I don't mean you'll be home alone, I mean I'm taking you along." Naruto slides out from the opening just enough to give him a wide grin and grab something in his toolbox, and then his upper body disappears again.

Sasuke scowls at his legs, and then turns his head to scan the waiting room again. "No, you're not."

"Yes, I am."

"No."

"You owe me for not telling the old hag."

Sasuke grits his teeth, and kicks the metal panel over Naruto's head, making it ring. There's an answering clonk as the furry hits his head, startled; he squirms back out quickly, rubbing his forehead, and gives Sasuke a glare that is best described as pouty.

"Bastard."

Sasuke gives the hospital hall behind them a meaningful look; a second later, one of the two other orderlies joins them, smiling. "Sasuke, sorry, there were complications. Naruto, nice to see you."

Sasuke is still surprised at how close Naruto is to most of the hospital staff. From what he understands, Tsunade was his legal tutor? Or something. Maybe she's his aunt... or his grandmother. It doesn't matter.

"Any luck with the repairs?"

"Oh yeah, I'm almost done."

"So did you find the problem?" The other man leans over Naruto's legs to peer inside. "It is kind of curious that it only reacted like that to Sasuke..."

"Oh yeah -- they used an alloy for his implants that's a slightly different composition than normal cyber stuff, and the door couldn't read it."

To Sasuke it sounds a tiny bit rehashed, but he's not going to complain that Naruto can't lie to save his life; not everyone can measure subtle variations in pitch, pupil dilatation and heartbeat as minutely as he can.

"I didn't know that could happen," the orderly comments, nudging his glasses back up as he smiles good-naturedly at Naruto.

"Yeah, it's kinda weird. Didn't think it could either," Naruto replies with a shrug and a wide grin. "Anyway! I'm almost done; you two stand back. Sasuke, if I die, you still have to go."

And before Sasuke can ask what he means, Naruto pushes two buttons, turns a dial, and rolls on the floor away from him.

Both sets of heavy doors swoosh closed a half-second later, barely missing the furry's arm.

Sasuke stares at the sealed doors, and wonders if Naruto is insane. There were simpler -- and less dangerous -- ways to make sure the gate functioned, like going to the help desk and controlling it from there. Idiot.

He hears a few beeps, and then the doors swoosh open again.

"Come on, try it?"

Sasuke gives the waiting room and its squatting hobos a last measuring look, and steps through the little corridor separated by the double set of doors. The machine blinks green at him merrily, not making a sound.

"Hah! I'm great."

The orderly chuckles politely. "Indeed. Did Doctor Tsunade pay you yet?"

"Oh, don't worry, we'll make a deal later," Naruto replies easily as he stuffs his tools back in his box. "Are you done with Sasuke?"

"Oh -- yes, you can go ahead."

Sasuke frowns a little. What was that pause about? "I have to clock out first."

He pushes past them to go to the little office at the end of the corridor, where he went through his job interview. He doesn't bother closing the door as he takes off his lab coat, and ends up twitching a little when he realizes that his mild, soft-spoken colleague is teasing Naruto about poaching on Hospital grounds, and Sakura's reaction to Naruto's... "cheating" on her. Naruto and Sakura aren't dating, are they? Sakura hasn't really made a mystery of her attraction to Sasuke, and Naruto flirts with everything that moves. Besides...

"It's not a date," he cuts them off as he walks back out -- and then gives Naruto a suspicious look. "Right?"

Naruto coughs... guiltily? Wait, no, he's laughing. "Nah, I'm just going to hang out with friend. And you're gonna hang out with us. Yes, you are, don't argue."

Sasuke's scowl deepens, but he doesn't want to argue in front of his coworker.

"Don't keep him up too late, Naruto," the other man intervenes, wiping his glasses clean, with just a little too much seriousness to be anything but teasing.

"He won't." Sasuke shrugs off the discussion. "I'll relieve you tomorrow at five."

The orderly smiles and takes place at the help desk, waving goodbye jauntily. "Have fun, Naruto, Sasuke."

Naruto leers back, playful, and throws an arm around Sasuke's shoulders, tail wagging as he drags him outside of the hospital. "Oh, we will, we will. Come on, Sasuke, you'll like Shika. He thinks like an A.I. and most of the time he can't be bothered to contribute more than a fifth of any discussion."

"If you're only counting the discussions you're in, it isn't surprising," Sasuke retorts. He still doesn't want to go, but he owes Naruto, and at least that Shika person doesn't sound too irritating.

From the help desk, Kabuto watches them leave, amused.


	6. Neji : Chapter 6

Logically the previous chapter and the next should be happening one right after the other, but I've got this Neji chapter written and no Sasuke chapters left. So here it is.

Let's play "spot the cameos". :D

* * *

"Come on! Just give her a message!"

Neji frowns and turns away from the handcuffed furry, irritated. "I can already have you charged with trespassing and theft; would you like stalking and harassment on top of that?"

"What? I didn't steal anything this time! Come on, just give her my email, I'm not asking--"

"... This time?" Neji interrupts him, and scowls at the security guard who's standing beside the seated intruder.

The guard shrugs helplessly. "My apologies, Mr. Neji -- miss Hinata told us to let him go..."

Neji takes the time to mentally swear at his original's daughter, and then a moment longer to count to ten. She just had to supervise the security for the five days it took to heal Neji's shoulder -- she didn't even have to give orders, just to let them do their job and transmit the big stuff to her father -- and she can't even do that much?

"Let a thief go," he repeats, tone flat.

"Hey, I'm not a thief, I was just looking for spare parts. I mean, you threw them away, it wasn't as if you were gonna use 'em."

"Do the words 'industrial espionage' mean anything to you?" Neji inquires smoothly.

The young man shrugs, looking away briefly -- meaning he knows, but unless he's caught, he doesn't care.

He has weird slit pupils, irises so pale they seem invisible; ridiculously strange and way too attention-grabbing, but not as much as the white dog ears flopping on the sides of his head, and the thick, red gang tattoos on his face. His hair is messy, his clothes scruffy and baggy enough to hide half his weight in contraband, and he doesn't look that clean either. Furry trash.

"I wasn't spying anything. I just wanna talk with the girl. Hinata, you say? Just give her my email, come on, it's not that hard!"

Neji shakes his head, bemused. "You have serious balls, coming here -- do you even realize that she is _President Hyuuga's daughter_?"

The furry blinks, briefly taken aback. "Whoa, seriously? She's hella nice for an upper-cruster. I thought she was a secretary or something."

Neji takes his shades off, slowly, and gives the street rat a long look. The intruder wilts at the sight of Neji's pale, un-amused eyes; Neji turns back to the guard. "Drop him at the police station. Vagrancy, public disturbance. If he comes back onto Hyuuga property, you have permission to use the tazers."

"Hey! Come on, just tell her--"

Neji cuts off his protest with a sharp hand gesture. "What she is, is out of your league. Be thankful that I will not be informing President Hyuuga that he should press charges against you for stalking his daughter." Not that the police is much more than a farce around here, but no one bribes his way out of a Hyuuga's formal complaint.

And he's been wasting too much time on this trash.

"Get that out of here."

He turns away and walks out, not waiting for an answer, and stalks back toward the surveillance room. He'll lock himself in; hopefully no one will come and disturb him. If the manager wasn't watching over a car accident obstructing one of the Hyuuga estate's exits, Neji would have let him let deal with the street rat. In any case, he's not going to move again for anything short of an assault on the inner walls.

He places his hand on the scanner, moves forward as the door sweeps open... and pauses, one step inside the surveillance room, frowning. Did he dream, or was there a lag --

Snick.

"Good evening."

Adrenaline floods him. "You again," he replies softly, palms tingling, and tries to guess if he could grab the blade and send a sufficiently strong charge into the assassin's circuits before he opens his throat.

Probably not; Neji steps forward obediently when the assassin nods toward the empty chair in front of the screens.

"Are you going to finish the job, this time?" he scoffs as he sits down.

The assassin doesn't answer. The door closes smoothly behind their backs, and beeps as it locks. Neji's teeth clench, and he slowly takes his glasses off, dropping them on the edge of the switchboard. The assassin doesn't react; Neji feels like swearing. He must have deactivated the alarm, or he wouldn't let Neji reach toward it.

"Log into the computer."

"If I say no, I die?"

"No. You lose a leg."

"Severing the artery will kill me in under two minutes," Neji replies cynically.

The tip of the blade is at his neck again; and he can feel it warming up.

"Not if I cauterize it."

... Alright, he isn't fond of the idea. Especially if his nerves are damaged too close to the hip; then he would have to have his whole lower body from the hips down taken out for cybernetization. But that's assuming he lives very long past the loss of his leg.

"I'll pass out."

"No one will notice that you're missing for several hours," the assassin counters softly.

Definitely not an A.I., despite the total-cyborg look; they can do subtle threats, but they're not much for this almost-gentle, scary-as-hell tone. Human, then; presumably an actual "he".

Without another word, Neji turns to face the computer, jacks himself in. The command port was fitted with an illegal dual plug; he gives it a wary look, though it seems of good quality. He doesn't really feel like frying his implant, he has spent enough time on an operation table in his life as it is.

The assassin leans over Neji's shoulder, blade against his neck, and plugs himself in the other port. Neji twitches; for a moment he feels like an echo, and then the ghost disappears entirely from his feedback.

Huh. Assassin, spy and hacker. Not bad for one man.

"Log into your account."

Neji obeys, acutely aware of the weight of that arm around his collarbone. A slow, regular breath makes the bangs on the left side of his face move. He wants to reach out, tuck that lock of hair away, and then grab the assassin's face and fry him good; but he wouldn't have the time to pull his own plug free.

Neji stares absently at the screen, even though it doesn't tell him much more than what he's downloading to his interface chip, and follows the quiet directions that the assassin is giving him.

It doesn't really make sense. He's researching -- Hyuuga Corporation personnel? Faces after faces flash on the screen; credentials and seniority are only given a quick glance. Several times, Neji is asked to blow up the image, find another angle of view, pull up old security footage -- eventually they're all dismissed. Eventually Neji notices that most of them share something of the same bone structure. So the assassin is after someone specifically... well, he did say it was personal.

"Hm. How do you access the top secret projects?"

Neji scoffs. "I don't have the clearance. Besides if you try to access them from here, the whole compound will enter total lockdown in under two minutes."

There is silence for a minute behind him; Neji waits, still and quiet. And then a face flashes on the screen. Thirty-something, relatively handsome Asian male with high cheekbones. Yellow eyes. Neji didn't find that one on his computer; probably the assassin uploaded it to the computer.

"Know him?"

"No."

Another face. Similar type -- related? -- though different enough to be clearly recognizable as another person entirely... Still the yellow eyes, though.

"No."

Another; a woman this time. Yellow -- more of a pale gold, really; cat-slit pupils?

"No."

White bleached hair, green eyes. Somewhat androgynous; now this is someone else entirely.

"No."

Bristly black hair in a high ponytail, narrow black eyes, smirk. The kind of smirk that's asking for a punch in the teeth. Or the throat.

Not that he would ever punch a Hyuuga Corporation employee. Despite how good it would feel. Of course.

"No."

A warm trail wets the collar of his shirt.

"Don't lie."

Neji goes still, finally noticing the blade nicking him. It's so sharp, he didn't even feel it.

"Who?"

Neji doesn't play stupid. "One of the lab assistants; I never caught his name. He left about a year and a half ago." On a stretcher; Neji still doesn't regret it, though he's not about to send the assassin after that guy either.

There's a pause; Neji wonders if the date has any significance. "Which of the professors was he assisting?"

"I don't know. I don't have that clearance."

"Who has it?"

Neji grits his teeth. "I don't know."

"Guess."

"Hyuuga Hiashi?" he hazards, sneering.

Wordlessly, the assassin presses a small plastic vial to Neji's collarbone, just under the cut. Neji jerks, reaches up to grab his wrist. He gets in a small shock before the assassin's other arm -- the one with the blade at the end -- tightens around his throat, choking him, forcing him to bend back over the chair.

"Don't make me break your neck. I can use your cut-off hand just as easily. It will have your imprints."

"Won't give th'codes," Neji wheezes, and struggles weakly, wondering why his bolt didn't have more effect. He didn't even feel any shock in feedback through the computer.

"You do not have the ones I want, unless you lied."

The room is turning black. Neji struggles to do something -- his port! He tries to send an email, an alert, anything -- he runs into a firewall. Then there's a brief shower of static, and emptiness. The end of the severed cable bumps softly against his arm. He's going to have a hell of a migraine, if he doesn't suffocate to death. He slumps, more than halfway to passing out; the assassin retracts his blade, holding Neji up against the back of the chair by his wrist, still against Neji's neck.

When the assassin pulls the vial of blood away to seal and pocket it, Neji lets his hand fall limply under the armrest; and then he grabs his thigh just over the knee, thumb and forefinger pressed just over the kneecap, and lets loose the electrical shock he's been gathering for the past two minutes.

His head is wrenched back so hard, the chair topples; he's half-suffocated as it is and can't catch himself. His head raps sharply against the thinly padded edge of the seat. He rolls under the desk, kicking the chair hard at the assassin's legs, and fights not to throw up.

The assassin turns to the side to protect the leg that Neji hit; just a little; just enough. Neji is smirking, teeth bared, as he directs another hit at the computer tower -- SNICK, he freezes in mid-lunge; blood splatters the floor, the black blade sprouting between his fingertips. He slams his other hand up into the metal desk, palm open -- a foot scythes through his hiding space, slams into his shoulder; it's like getting hit by a speeding bowling ball. He spins -- crashes on his front.

Stillness. Pain.

Broken shoulder -- arm or collarbone? He can't tell. He doesn't move. He breathes; it hurts. It's dark; he thinks that maybe he's passing out, and then notices that it's because at least half the surveillance screens are fried. The computer is restarting; the charge Neji sent through the metal table was too weak to get past its surge protectors, but the assassin has lost the passwords -- and maybe someone will notice. Maybe the uploaded files are still there. Maybe...

The assassin crouches at his side; one of his legs is stiff, still seizing. Neji chuckles; his throat protests, but he doesn't care.

"You are quite resourceful."

"Not st'pid either," Neji wheezes out. "... 'm not dead yet. Whadd'you want?"

There is silence for a few minutes; Neji spends them flexing his fingers slowly to try to get some feeling back inside them, while trying to ignore the feelings he gets from the rest of his body.

"Find the passwords for me."

Neji blinks slowly, incredulous, and then chokes on a laugh.

"Or? You'll kill me?"

"If I must." The assassin's fingers brush against his neck, strangely gentle; he removes the severed plug from Neji's datajack so deftly that he barely feels it. "I will kill you all."

Neji's laughter dies in his throat. He's serious. He's not even -- not even threatening. It's... a fact.

"... Why... do you think I care?"

"Why didn't you have the intruder charged for industrial espionage, stalking and theft?"

Neji blinks fuzzily. The hell has that to do with anything. "Gave him one warning. Just one. 'm not a pushover."

"No, you can be quite ruthless, can't you."

Neji blinks again, trying to clear his vision. Is the assassin smiling? ... oh, right, armored face. Won't show.

"You can be quite ruthless, but there are limits you won't cross without reason, and you are still somewhat fair."

There's a pause; Neji attempts to push himself on the side, but with his shoulder screaming at him whenever he tries to use it, it isn't easy.

"I," breathes the assassin, "am not fair. And I have no limits."

Neji grits his teeth and rolls on his side; fuck his shoulder. "Bullshit. You aren't torturing me."

"Merely because there's no time right now. It will be more efficient to convince you to collaborate, than to kidnap you later. You would be harder to convince, I might as well abduct someone else."

Neji sneers into the black, chiseled mask that is his face. "You're not convincing me. Maybe you should kill me and leave, before they investigate."

"I still have twelve minutes."

"You're wasting one of them and not convincing me."

The red eyes narrow. "Give me the men I showed you, and everyone else will live."

"You're going to kill them, and you want me to sell them to you?"

"Maybe. They're not working here anymore; you owe them no loyalty."

"Human decency is rather weird like that."

"Can Hinata fight like you?"

Neji pauses, briefly, then gives him a vicious smirk, with all his teeth. "Go ahead."

The assassin tilts his head, considering him thoughtfully. Neji feels smug -- all of three seconds.

"Can the maids fight like you? The cooks. The janitors. The lab assistants. The secretaries."

"... You're not going to track them down one by one."

"I have their records now," the assassin replies simply.

Neji swears, fist clenched. "You're not going to track them! Our hitmen will get you before you get that far."

The assassin tilts his head thoughtfully again, a surprisingly catlike gesture -- almost innocently predatory. "...No. They won't."

Neji swears again, between his clenched teeth. His chest hurts, his shoulder might be broken, he has mild whiplash and his hand is bleeding, and no one is coming. Fuck.

"Find their files for me."

"Why do you want them!" Neji snarls back, incensed by the uncomfortable awareness that he's going to bow to his blackmail.

"Why do you read as Hyuuga Hiashi?" the assassin counters, a whisper in his ear.

Neji kicks off the wall, slashing his wounded hand at the assassin's ankles; electricity crackles between his fingers, numbing him down to the elbow. He misses, of course; the assassin lands in a crouch just out of reach. Neji doesn't pull his hand back fast enough; a kick glances off it. Tiny blood drops land in a gracious arc from there to the wall. And now he has broken fingers.

The assassin straightens up, a statue of black metal, looking down at him with his red, spinning eyes. "Until next time."

And two seconds later Neji is left on the floor, half-curled up under a desk. His throat is starting to swell, the back of his head hurt just a tiny bit more than his migraine, and as for his body, the only thing that dulls the bruises all over is the scream of his collarbone. To top it off, he's been using the bioelectrical implants so hard that he can't feel his hands; and now, in the silence, he's starting to hear the phantom whistling of the brutally cut connection.

Well, that was a pretty clear 'Let's not sour our association with unpleasant questions, shall we.'

And here he was glad when he got to keep the goddamn scar.

He's alive. Again. Mostly. He crawls to the desk, and hits the alarm button, he isn't sure how -- and only when it starts to howl does he remember not reaching for it because the assassin surely wouldn't let him, not if it still worked; and since he let Neji reach for it, it meant -- son of a bitch bluffed him.

He slumps on his back, breathless and dizzy and very aware that he's about to throw up, and then he starts to laugh.

He's alive. And next time, he's not going to go down so easily.


	7. Sasuke : Chapter 7

Betaed by the amazing Windshades as always. Thank you, love.

oOoOoOoOo

Sasuke wishes Naruto would quit his caterwauling. He's supposed to be a fox, damn it, not a cat in heat. Naruto doesn't seem to care. He belts out romantic ballads and perverted ditties, and sometimes garbled mixes of the two. Sasuke is absolutely horrible at understanding poetry, but even he can tell that the furry is pulling his lyrics out of his ass half the time.

The matter isn't so much the modified lyrics, but the notice people are taking of the two of them. Naruto and Sasuke are young men, they appear to be in good shape; those are the only thing preventing their stumbling comedy routine from making them into the perfect mark. Their clothes, while not expensive, aren't threadbare or out of fashion, neither of them is carrying a gun, and Naruto is drunk off his ass; if Sasuke stopped supporting him, he'd land face first in the gutter.

It's a very tempting thought. But Sasuke reserves it for when they get mugged. It's going to happen, he knows it is; the only question left is when.

The streets are beginning to look suspiciously empty for this hour of the night. There's something going on. How annoyed he is at Naruto for being so noisy, and being unable to stand on his own. The furry is strangely heavy, and a little too affectionate. He babbles on and on about things Sasuke tries not to pay attention to, his nose in Sasuke's neck.

Sasuke has the sneaking suspicion that Shikamaru didn't take his "I'm just crashing at his place until the job's done" at face value.

"Yeah -- yeah, you mah BEST FRIEND EVER. Nuh, really."

Sasuke resists the urge to roll his eyes -- and then gives into it, because as illogical as they are, developing mannerisms means he is settling into his personality. His personality is more than verging on sarcastic bastard. He is grimly content with the idea. "Earlier you said Chouji was your best friend."

"... I did?"

"When he gave you a potato chip."

"OH! Oh yeah. That! Tha's really im-portant. Really-really important. I mean, Chouji... potato chips... Hez my bes' friend! Gave me a chip. Out of his OWN BAG. Serr-osly."

Sasuke rolls his eyes again, and adds a snort for emphasis. Naruto is too heavy. What the hell did he stuff in his pockets? And he keeps squirming and trying to slip out of Sasuke's hold. So annoying.

"But you... you're my BESTEST bes' friend. An' I got something for you. Surpi -- surri -- sur-pri-se. Guess whazzit?"

Sasuke contemplates ignoring him.

Then Naruto nudges him, several times. "Guess what? Guess whaaat?"

"... I don't know," he grumbles dutifully. "What is it?"

Naruto erupts in giggles. "Not telling! S'why it's called a sur-prise. Idiot."

Sasuke's heel just happens to land on Naruto's toes. His fault for being a bumbling, drunk idiot.

"Ow!"

"Stop whining."

"You hurt me--"

Sasuke presses a hand to Naruto's mouth, and sharpens his senses. He can hear yelling from the next street over, over the muffled, slobbery protests of the fox furry. A fight? A skirmish between gangs? That would explain where everyone has gone.

Naruto pulls his hand down, rearing back. Sasuke is about to grab him again to keep him up, but the blond isn't struggling or falling anymore. He stands, balance a bit unsteady, tail up as a counterweight, a dark scowl on his usually happy face. His ears are perking up. "... Broken glass."

Sasuke frowns, sharpens his hearing to borderline dangerous heights, and finally hears the tinkling of shards of glass being kicked off a window frame.

Then a gunshot.

They run.

Naruto runs like he's only narrowly missing the ground each time he falls forward. But he doesn't lose ground.

Sasuke braces himself and stops him just before the corner, a hand on his shoulder; Naruto slams into him, almost falls, straightens up on his own. His tail bristles, puffed up to twice its original size, and there's a sneer on his face that bares his fangs up to the gums.

They both know it's got to be the hospital.

"They have to have sentries. We can't rush in -- Naruto!" Sasuke has to shake the furry, hard; Naruto isn't paying attention to him. "We don't know how many there are, and they're armed."

"I'll fucking kill them all."

Sasuke knew that Naruto had some kind of bond with doctor Tsunade and Sakura, but he didn't think it was that deep -- or that Naruto even had a violent bone in his body. He didn't even get violent when Sasuke himself had threatened the furry's life.

Naruto is not serious in his threat; Naruto is just angry and doesn't need to be arrested -- fuck, fuck, fuck, Sasuke's losing control of his subroutines. The protocol in this case is to subdue violent individuals, call the precinct and wait for reinforcements -- he'll never find a payphone in time in these streets -- something explodes.

He welcomes the Sharingan mode.

Authorized Troup Support Uzumaki Naruto takes off running; UG-7-SA, codename Sasuke lets him go. They have bombs. Terrorist threat. Neutralize first, secure delinquents second. He kicks open a boarded up window, makes his way through the empty house to another window -- fire escape, he climbs. Rusty; breaking. He grabs the edge of the roof, pulls himself up -- gravel-covered roof, a ledge, jump. Landing. The blueprints of the area didn't show a wire fence there; he plows through. Jump, ladder, balcony ledge, screaming woman in apartment -- no threat visible, just him. Dismiss. Run out in the corridor. Dodge under the arm of the man opening the door in face, run -- mirrored balcony. Jump. Fall -- catch. Slip -- catch again, recalibrate left arm's performances. And climb the ladder, three stories above ground.

Hospital. A house on the roof -- Doctor Tsunade's penthouse. He breaks the window cleanly, finds the staircase, runs down. Third floor, three patients out in the corridor -- worried, but body languages show no sign of direct threat. This floor is free. Second floor -- trauma ward. Patients limping away; he throws open the door to the staircase. No authorized personnel -- no nurses. He has a mission, but --

"Evacuate through this door! Up to third floor, the East-side fire escape!"

Some don't seem to hear him. He catches a man's arm -- Watanabe Youssef, fifty-one year old, residing -- irrelevant, he's trustworthy. "Guide other patients out." It's not a request.

He runs again, leaving behind the vague echoes of subroutines protesting his commandeering a civilian; loses himself into the Sharingan mode again.

The ground floor is full of smoke; the blast screen black with ash. Naruto's gate is closed. The top half of the wall beside it, meant to separate the waiting room and the restricted area, is a pile of rubble. Two unidentified black-haired men in green scrubs are beating gang members off of it with broomsticks; Orderly Yakushi Kabuto is using a tazer on those trying to pull the brooms out of their hands.

Sasuke counts the enemies; two, five, seven, ten. Thirteen. Thirteen mobile, two on the floor. Guns -- six.

Five.

There is Naruto.

He slips around Yakushi, leaps on the wall, foot already scything through the air. Two shaved heads crack together. One down, one wobbling back up -- Sasuke is landing, crouching, elbow to the gut -- whirling, on hands now, double-kick to the chest -- three men down. More arrive. He dodges before they touch him.

Everything is red. Doctor Tsunade is in front of him, in the melee. He catches a knife-wielding hand -- breaks the wrist, breaks the leg, shoves away -- four down. Doctor Tsunade is holding her own. He scans the room -- no other bombs. The first one was Molotov, from the scent. Dodge! Tsunade swings a chair, winging another man -- not down. Sasuke downs him, knife-hand to the back of the neck, grabs Tsunade's chair which is swinging back at him again.

Brief pause. Recognition. He scans the room again -- seven down, blood on the floor. Can't locate Naruto. Locates legs -- feminine legs -- in the middle of the group Tsunade is charging.

Hospital slippers. Hostage.

He grabs a neck, a wrist, throws people behind him -- gunshots. He whirls around -- Yakushi. Handgun. Illegal -- later! One dead, one dying. Hostage first.

Nine down; there's Naruto. Ten -- Tsunade.

Pause. Threat to the life of the hostage. Nurse scrubs. Short black hair. Never met her. Knife held to her throat, held from behind, the two men left back to back.

Tsunade lifts up the chair. "Let go of Shizune or I'll kill you with my bare hands, oath be damned."

Behind them, gun cocked; he glances. Yakushi again, holding downed gang members in sight.

Swift blur -- a man jerks -- a crack. Eleven down. Three dead. Naruto's hands are red. Sasuke reaches, blocks a swing of razor to Naruto's back -- Tsunade's chair crashes into the man's head. Twelve down.

Blood at Shizune's neck. Blood from Naruto's claws in the man's wrist, severing the vein. Blood from Naruto's claws on the man's shoulder, wrenching him off Shizune, throwing him aside.

Blur -- Naruto pounces. Sasuke blocks -- claws graze his nose even as he dodges. He drops to the ground, twisting Naruto's arm -- Naruto rolls; kicks. Sasuke's arm malfunctions; he lets go. He stands between the downed gang member and Naruto.

Naruto is Authorized Troop Support; this is just a misunderstanding. He reminds him; "This is not justifiable homicide."

Naruto pauses. Sasuke watches. The probabilities of a hostile attempt are dropping.

"He's right, brat. This is not self-defense anymore. Now calm down and round up those assholes."

Naruto closes his eyes, and then straightens up slowly.

"... Fine, old hag. If you say so."

Sasuke surveys the room a last time. The two men in green scrubs are cautiously going around collecting weapons and deposing them out of easy reach, behind the blast screen; Yakushi is keeping watch over the few gang members who seem to want to get back up; Doctor Tsunade is leading Shizune back to a still-standing chair and sitting her down.

He hears sirens. He lets go of the Sharingan mode, and starts checking the injured.

Four dead; two gunshots, a broken neck, and one of the man he gave broken legs to fell badly and severed his femoral artery. Sasuke breaks his neck, too; it's too late, there's nothing but the humane gesture left to do.

Nine assailants alive; he helps the younger man in green drag the ones who won't suffer from being moved toward a wall. Naruto moves to the rest; Tsunade snaps at him to get her doctor bag instead. The fox furry stills, and then goes, slowly climbing through the hole in the wall. The older man in green is giving first aid to one of the worst injuries; Tsunade joins him, and then, slowly, Shizune does, too. Yakushi watches them; then he calls for Sasuke.

Sasuke looks down at the gun in his hands, and then up at Kabuto's face. Tired, tense, worried. Glasses broken, blood on his cheek, no other obvious injuries. "Please, keep them in sight. Cover us. I have to..." He jerks his head toward the rest of the wounded.

Sasuke nods, hefts the gun, sights the obvious leader. The man glares, but slips back down the wall and onto the floor. Slowly, Kabuto joins the other medics treating the wounded.

Three police cruisers screech to a stop in front of the hospital two minutes later.

oOoOoOoOo

"Oh, Sasuke -- here, have a cup of coffee."

Sakura is standing before him; Sasuke pauses, still holding onto the destroyed row of chairs that he was dragging outside.

"You should get some rest; you've been cleaning for hours..."

Sasuke shakes his head; he almost refuses the cup, but then she meets his eyes, and hers are reddened; so in the end he takes it. It's unnecessary, but she isn't supposed to know that. Perhaps it soothes her to care for others. "I can't leave it in the middle of the waiting room."

"Get some rest, Sasuke, please."

He's not tired. He doesn't get tired. But his energy levels are dangerously low. Perhaps he should. He shakes his head again. "Did you find everyone?"

"Yes, finally." She chuckles; she doesn't seem to be all that entertained. "We found Mister Henderson in Doctor Tsunade's dirty clothes hamper. And Miss Leight and Mrs. Arfaoui got back to their homes safely. They were the last ones missing."

He nods. A simple yes would have been enough.

"Anyway, Doctor Tsunade says you can go home, and to come back at five PM this afternoon. So go get some rest, please. You haven't slept since yesterday, have you?"

"I -- no." Well, he's definitely slower. He frowns a little as he makes his decision. "Very well. I'll put this outside, and then go. ...Where is Naruto?"

Sakura winces; and Sasuke realizes that he hasn't seen Naruto since the police arrived.

"He... He'll be waiting for you at the corner of 15th Street. Just get home, the both of you."

Sasuke stares at Sakura, as he realizes what's been going on. "Why didn't he make his deposition?"

Sakura blinks up at him, licks her lips, hesitating, then shrugs and looks away. "Sasuke..."

"He killed someone," Sasuke retorts, scowling.

"Kabuto killed two! And he was doing it in self-defense. And the police said 'alright' and left him alone. Naruto was doing it in self-defense, too."

Sasuke frowns. The gang members weren't threatening Kabuto directly. But maybe they were threatening someone else; he didn't see. The one Naruto killed had been holding a woman hostage -- a woman he also intended to sexually assault, from various clues Sasuke had registered at the time, but hadn't put together.

"If he has nothing to fear, why isn't he talking to the police?" he asks again, stubbornly.

"Sasuke..." Sakura gives him a pleading look. "Naruto is a good person, but he can't afford to have a criminal record. You need to talk to him about it, alright? Please talk to him before judging. Please."

Sasuke downs the coffee just so he can crush and throw the empty cup at the trash bag in the corner. "Fine," he snaps. "Fine, I'll talk to him."

He turns away, dragging the row of twisted, crushed chairs outside, throws them on the pile of trash by the wall with all the rubble, and then stalks down the street. As Sakura promised, Naruto is waiting just past the corner; Sasuke doesn't talk to him, barely gives him a glance. Naruto falls into step with him, and they go back to the subway, all but ignoring each other.

It's only a few stops, then a five-minute walk, and then Sasuke is following the fox furry up the path to his house again.

Naruto's golden ears are drooping; the tip of his tail brushes the ground. He looks ready to drop; and Sasuke is starting to turn off unnecessary systems just so he can scrounge up enough energy not to shut down before he's in the workshop.

Naruto doesn't bother turning on the lights in the workshop; he zigzags through the piles of stuff, aiming for the door that connects to his little apartment. Sasuke sits on the metal table he's been using as a bed.

"Naruto."

"Hmm?"

"We will talk. Later."

Naruto pauses at his door, his back still turned toward Sasuke; then he grins tiredly at him over his shoulder. "Alright. But lemme give you your present before you drag me off to the cops, okay?"

Sasuke scowls; he can't promise that. He wants to argue, but he's reaching his limit. He lays down, eyes closed, listening to the sound of Naruto's feet dragging on the floor, Naruto struggling his way out of his clothes, and the mattress creaking under the furry's weight.

Sasuke doubts Naruto will run out while he's unaware, anyway. He sinks into sleep mode. Just before he goes out, he wonders what kind of crazy thing his present is going to be.


	8. Sasuke : Chapter 8

There was a problem with the FFnet alerts around the time I last updated; please check that you did read the latest chapter before reading this one, or you won't understand much. :p

Many thanks to Cindelius for the beta.

* * *

"Why can't you afford to have a criminal record?"

Naruto blinks drowsily at Sasuke over the edge of his steaming bowl, and then winces as the question registers. He eventually chuckles. "And people say I don't have any tact."

Standing on the other side of his table, Sasuke doesn't budge, his arms crossed over his chest, his feet set apart in a solid stance. Naruto flicks an ear and waves toward a stool. "Siddown, I'm not running anywhere until I'm done with breakfast."

"I'm comfortable standing."

"Yeah, well, I'm not comfortable with you staring down at me, so sit your ass down or get out of my face." Naruto's ears flatten on his head briefly, golden fur mingling with tangled blond locks, and then return to their usual lazy slant atop his head. Annoyed, Sasuke pushes the pile of papers from the stool to the floor and drags the stool to the table, sitting down stiffly.

"Why can't you afford to have a criminal record?" he asks again. He wants an answer, damn it, and the more Naruto delays, the worse Sasuke suspects it's going to be.

"'Cause then someone would probably notice that my ID's a fake," Naruto replies with an easy grin. He has a milk moustache; the incongruity bothers Sasuke for a second. Is Naruto attempting to appease him by appearing innocent? No, he would know that Sasuke isn't easily manipulated.

"... Why is your ID a fake?"

"Why is yours?"

"My ID is perfectly legal; it was issued by the government in full knowledge of my circumstances," Sasuke growls.

Naruto grins. "Your ID says 'unmodified human', dude. And it says Hatake on it, too."

Sasuke graces Naruto with a long, unamused stare. "Is Uzumaki your real name?"

"Yeah, sure," Naruto replies casually, sipping from his bowl.

"So you're using your real name?" Sasuke repeats. It doesn't make sense; Uzumaki isn't such a common name. If he truly were in hiding, he wouldn't be using it.

"Yep." Naruto grins at him again; and then, faced with Sasuke's irritated look -- Sasuke has become proficient at 'you really must think I'm stupid' expressions in the last few weeks -- he sighs. "It's mine as in I consider it mine, and if you yell it in the street, I'll turn around. You're not gonna find a birth certificate for Uzumaki Naruto." Naruto paused, scratched his ear, and grinned guiltily. "Well, yes, I mean, you're gonna find one in the computer..."

"...But there isn't a paper copy of it in the archives of the hospital that was supposed to have delivered the certificate, is there."

"Nope."

Naruto drinks the last of his milk with a grimace and gets up, finding a small space in the full sink to wedge his bowl. Sasuke gets the feeling that the furry thinks their interview has reached its end. Like hell it has.

"Naruto, your stabilizing program for my subroutines is helpful in its small way, but it isn't state of the art," he comments slowly.

The blond turns around to look at him, tail held up and still. Sasuke meets his eyes, wiping all traces of expression from his face.

"It would be a shame if it were overloaded."

"... You son of a bitch."

Sasuke's stony expression doesn't shift, even though he wants to snarl back that Naruto really has no grounds to look so betrayed. "I'm a cop, Uzumaki. It's not a job for me; it's in my prime directives."

Naruto deflates, ears drooping. "I know, I know... Still. I like you, man, but my life isn't your business."

But Sasuke's life is Naruto's business, Sasuke thinks with some resentment. Naruto knows that Sasuke is an AI, not a human; and he forced him to talk about Itachi -- not the details, true, but he still knows that Itachi exists and that Sasuke will kill him one day. Nothing is more Sasuke's personal business than Itachi.

"I'm not on any 'wanted' list. I never robbed anyone. I never hurt anyone who didn't attack me first. I'm not plotting to overthrow the government."

His vitals don't change much; Sasuke's subroutines quiet down. There's a possibility that Naruto is lying by omission, or he's so good at appearing trustworthy that his heartbeat remains steady as he hides his serial-killer ways. But it's doubtful. "So you're an ideal citizen."

"Well. Nah. I brawl, and I make noise at night. And, uh, I buy stuff at the black market..." he offers with a shrug.

"What kind of stuff?"

"Parts for my shop. Food. Alcohol."

Sasuke snorts. So does everyone and their grandmother; Sasuke's a lot more preoccupied with crimes than with misdemeanors.

"Drugs?" Sasuke asks, even though he seriously doubts Naruto would. Besides, the government doesn't care much about recreational stuff; they only actively crack down on hard drugs. Unless Naruto is a silversnow dealer, Sasuke isn't going to care.

"Does buying some pot count?"

Pot, hah. Nowadays even tobacco is considered with more annoyance; pot's only listed as illegal because drug pushers didn't want to lose their income and lobbied to keep it out of the government's influence and free of taxes. Sasuke shrugs. "Only if you sell it back for a profit."

"Then nope. Pot's for smoking with good buddies from time to time, that's all." He grins at Sasuke. "It's really too bad you can't smoke. It would be good for you, you need to relax."

Sasuke snorts. "Drugs are a delaying measure, not a solution."

"Blahblahblah. You know, Tsunade needs a social worker too."

"Fuck you."

Naruto cracks up. Sasuke watches as the blond furry folds in two and laughs until he turns red from lack of air, and wonders what was so funny, exactly. It isn't like he never cursed around Naruto before.

"Oh, that's just so the perfect -- what's the word again? Segue! Perfect segue. Here's your present, prettybot. Catch!"

Sasuke catches; it's that or stopping the flight of the package with his face.

"...Why are you getting me a present?" he asks, suspicious. Naruto is snickering too much, and Sasuke hates being laughed at. His expression darkens; Naruto lifts his hands defensively and swallows a chuckle.

"Just 'cause I wanted to, promise."

"I'm your customer and your lodger. I'm the one supposed to pay you."

"Bah, I told you I only want to be reimbursed for my expenses, is all. Getting to work on you is its own reward." Sasuke gives Naruto a long, unconvinced look. "... And there was a guy I know who had this and owed me, and he really had nothing I really wanted anyway. But it's good quality, really."

Sasuke gives the bag in his hand a last suspicious look, then reaches for the opening.

Naruto snickers. Sasuke is tempted to throw the present at his head, gratefulness be damned.

"Just tell me what's in that package first."

And Naruto is busting a gut laughing again.

"Naru_to_..."

"Just open and see!"

"I don't appreciate stupid jokes," Sasuke retorts. Especially when they're at his expense.

Naruto sobers up. A bit. "No, no, come on, just open it! Really, there's something for you inside."

Sasuke tears the plastic open, just so it can be over and done with. He finds a memory stick and a plain, gray cardboard box.

"I'm not downloading unknown data," he warns Naruto.

"I'll recheck it for worms and Trojans if you want, but it's just software. Drivers and stuff."

Something bumps softly against the inside of the box. Sasuke opens it; he doesn't want to question Naruto again for ten minutes, just to be told to check the box if he wants to know what the drivers are for.

"... I thought it wasn't a joke?" he asks softly as he stares down at Naruto's present in its nest of bubble wrap.

A snicker. "It isn't."

"So then," Sasuke continues, voice still as deceptively soft and controlled, "why are you laughing?"

"Dude, I'm not laughing at YOU. Dicks are always funny."

With sadistic enjoyment, Sasuke contemplates the possibility of stuffing the very real-looking cyborg penis and testicles that he's just been gifted with up Naruto's ass.

Wait, Naruto would probably like it.

"You do realize I'm this close to punching you?" Sasuke asks mildly as Naruto chortles in glee.

"Aw, come on, you're so uptight," Naruto replies easily as he leans over the table and pulls out the genitals by the head.

So many wires wrapped under the protective plastic. Sasuke can't help but frown in puzzlement at the excessive number of neural fibers.

"Seriously, I didn't mean it as an insult. The guy just had it, and you've got none, and whaddya know, it's your exact skin tone. Well, a bit paler, but you don't look like a nudie beach kinda guy anyway." Naruto's voice turns reasonable; Sasuke gives him a wary look. "You're trying to pass for flesh and blood, right? You're not gonna go far if you can't pass a cup check."

Sasuke is tempted to ask Naruto to stop using common sense to justify his assholish craziness, but that would be admitting that Naruto's got a point, so he doesn't say anything.

Naruto starts circling the table to join Sasuke as he tries to talk him into accepting the gift. "The stick --" snerk "--the memory stick, I mean -- just has the software to integrate it to your neural net, give it some lifelike physiological responses and all that. It's got the baselines to calibrate it, too -- how sensitive it should be and stuff, but you can change the settings yourself on the fly so you don't need to download that bit. And I checked the wires and plugs and stuff, and it should fit an Uchiha-type just fine, so you're not gonna short yourself out the first time you dip it in -- OW."

Naruto, Sasuke thinks with satisfaction, always seems to forget that Sasuke is heavier than he looks. And Sasuke is careful not to break Naruto's toes, so the subroutines are easy to ignore.

"... Son of a whore."

"I'm not a son of anything."

"Your production machine was a recycled sewer-bot."

"And yet it would still score higher than you on an IQ test."

Naruto makes a face at him. "Wow, a comeback that almost works."

"How are your toes?" Sasuke asks pointedly, aiming his heel again.

"Oh, go stuff yourself with your detachable cock, it's got to be more comfortable than that stick."

Sasuke arches an eyebrow and lets a smirk stretch his lips as he gives the contents of the box a meaningful look. "And here I thought you wanted to sit on my stick. It isn't double-ended, you know."

When Naruto freezes and gapes at him, Sasuke realizes it might have sounded as if he were flirting back; but the look on Naruto's face and the long seconds of stunned silence are worth it.

"...My baby made a funny. I'm so proud! Oh yes, make another sexual innuendo at daddy!"

"Daddy?" Sasuke repeats, trying to follow Naruto's train of thought. Even though experience so far has proved that Naruto's thoughts don't progress on train rails so much as on roller coasters.

"Who else is leading you on the road to manliness, dirty jokes and perverted thoughts? Huh? Who's your daddy?"

"...You'd be surprised to hear how foul-mouthed the hospital's residents can be. Speaking of the hospital, I'm going to work." Sasuke doesn't want to waste his afternoon snarking back and forth with Naruto. He leaves his stool, weighing the package in its box with some annoyance, and then he goes to stash it in a corner with the rest of his things. "It will interfere with my armor-shift mode anyway," he observes as he puts on a clean shirt.

"Gimme two days, and I'll figure a way past that."

Sasuke glares at Naruto over his shoulder. "Like I want you working on a strap-on dick when you should be working on my arm."

Naruto huffs in false offense. "Hey, I bet I could even rig it to vibrate!"

Sasuke growls and slams the door closed behind him. Idiot.


	9. Interlude : sidefics

So **this is not a real chapter per se**; but I offered some of my friends a drabble of their choice, and two of them requested something in the Crossed Wires universe.

For Quickthorne: Naruto about Sasuke.

* * *

Naruto thinks that Sasuke might be his ideal boyfriend. Sasuke is extremely fun to tease, smoking hot -- doesn't matter that he was tailored this way, it just means he won't ever get out of shape -- badass enough that Naruto doesn't need to worry about his safety every second he's out there in the world, and the best thing : he's like a walking, talking cyborg-mechanic's wet dream. Naruto could play with his insides for days and never grow bored. And he'd have bantering while he does it, too.

Better disable Sasuke's limbs while he tinkers with him, though. Sasuke's core directives don't allow him to do any lasting harm, but the definition is a bit too broad for the continued health of Naruto's toes.

Ah, if only Sasuke would ever grow kinky enough to do a partial shift into armor mode in bed, Naruto might well have a tech-gasm. But Naruto will be surprised if his personality grows enough to develop a sexual identity anytime soon.

Oh well, Sasuke's still fun to be around, and still fun to tinker with, and what's even better, he took Naruto's precious people under his protection -- and this might be worth even more to Naruto than having him as a fuckbuddy.

Besides, he still makes for nice eye-candy.

* * *

For Tephra Adularia : Sakura and Ino, the evening after Sasuke's job interview at the hospital.

* * *

"You were right." Ino fans herself with a pamphlet that she picked up in the waiting room. "Boy were you right."

Sakura grins. She's still a little flushed. "Hey, I told you, dibs!"

Ino sighs, a bit too loudly, but she nods anyway. When they were ten, she and Sakura got a crush on the same boy and it took them two years to fix their friendship. The boy wasn't worth it, anyway. "Fine, fine. I'll give you a head start." She smirks at her best friend. "If it's clear he doesn't want you, he's fair game, though."

Sakura scowls at her. "I'm not going to throw myself at him! He'll think I'm a slut." She sighs, and rests her chin in her hands as her gaze grows thoughtful. "He looks like he has a lot of things going on in his life at the moment... I want to help him with it, I don't want to be used as a temporary distraction from it."

Ino blinks. "Sakura... You've known him a day, cool your jets a bit. I admit he's the definition of dark and handsome, but..."

"Oh, shut up, you make it sound like I'm already planning our marriage and the names of our children."

"And you aren't?"

Sakura steals Ino's pamphlet and pretends to whack her shoulder with it. The blonde is laughing too much to care.

"I bet you already know what your full name will sound like when you marry him."

Sakura reddens guiltily. Ino laughs even harder.

"Stop it, Ino-pig! You make it sound like I'm a psycho stalker or something. It's just something I've done ever since we were children, it doesn't mean anything."

Ino smirks again. "If I ask you his phone number, will you need to check wherever you wrote it?"

Sakura replies without thinking. "He doesn't have a cell phone right now, but Naruto said he could take calls on his." She pauses as Ino coughs in her hand. "Ah, stop laughing already! I had to ask for the paperwork, is all!"

"And paperwork or not, if he had given it, you would totally remember it now."

Sakura pouts and crosses her arms defensively.

Ino decides to be lenient. "I know, I know. It's not your fault you have a huge brain behind that huge forehead of yours. What was my GPA back in third grade?"

Startled by the change of subject, Sakura rattles it off automatically. Ino gives her a teasing bow.

"Haruno Sakura the Amazing Super-Brain."

"Says the super-blonde."

Ino reaches out to mess up Sakura's hair; Sakura parries hurriedly and they spend a couple of minutes batting at each other, exchanging insults and laughing. But then Ino checks the time, and gets up regretfully. The last bus is leaving soon and she doesn't want to miss it.

"...Fine, fine, you've got dibs for now," she says as she leans down to pick up her bag. "But if he falls for my considerable charms on his own, it's not my fault."

"Hah! As if that would happen! He likes women with class, I can tell." Sakura is looking around for Ino's things, which have ended up everywhere on the desk. Sakura gives out her handful without looking, absently scanning the desk.

Ino snickers. "You can keep it. You'll need it."

Sakura blinks at her, and then looks down at the pamphlet. A bright pink 'TEENAGERS : WHAT YOU NEED TO KNOW ABOUT SAFE SEX' stares back at her.

She crumples it and throws it at her best friend's head, but Ino dodges behind the door and walks out of the hospital, laughing.

Ino steps out on the street, jacks in on her portable computer, and checks to see that she still has Naruto's number, somewhere in the mess of her hard drive. Not that she plans on calling Sasuke.

Not yet. But one of these days, she's going to make him and Sakura come with her to a dance club or something, and then, they'll see what happens. Yeah, she totally will.

Ah, whoever dates him in the end, he sure is nice to look at...

* * *

The next chapter will get here... when it gets here. u.u; I have a rough idea of what needs to happen, but I don't really feel inspired yet. Besides, NaNoWriMo and Teamwork come first. :p I still love the Cyborg universe, though, so no worries. 


	10. Neji: Chapter 9

No, this fic isn't dead. And what's even better? I HAVE A TIMELINE FOR THE PAST NOW. So this means instead of "oh, I thiiiink Sasuke was a cop at some point, and er, obviously he has to know Kakashi if he's using his last name, and. Uh. I guess Naruto and Tsunade have X connection...", I have a list of dates and stuff that happened, with the Uchiha units, with the Hyuuga corporation, and with Naruto, that goes back to at least twenty years before Naruto, Sasuke and Neji themselves even existed.

I still don't really know for sure what will happen in the fic itself, seeing as my method of writing for this universe seems to be "throw events into motion and watch where they crash into each other", but at least I have a much clearer idea of the undercurrents, which, for a fic that relies on mysterious pasts, is prrrrobably a must. XD;

* * *

Neji's room is white and gray and black. Mostly white. His drawstring sweatpants are white, too, as are the bandages around his shoulder and upper chest.

He doesn't match anymore, despite his smoke-gray eyes and coal-black hair. The ugly yellow-purple-green bruises really stand out on his pale skin, as do the red blisters on his hands.

He takes comfort in the fact that his hands still hurt. At least he didn't damage his nerves, and the doctor who treated him tells him that the bioelectrical implants won't need any special care. There isn't much else to take comfort in. He's been put on leave from security work while he recovers, and strongly encouraged to avoid all exercise; they tell him that it's for his own good, but he knows it's punishment.

In their eyes, he should have been silent and obeyed his captor to minimize injury and keep Hyuuga investments safe -- his datajack's entry port had to be replaced, which is costly enough for all its relative simplicity. His bioelectrical implants are state of the art, but they only work as long as his hands aren't a charred mess, and his cracked skull could have damaged his neural net and attached biochips. The Hyuuga corporation has their own surgeons, of course, but that doesn't mean they think nothing of sending their spare puppet in for repairs.

Hah. Like Neji got himself beat up just for the pleasure of getting more brain surgery.

The council is a bunch of paranoid old bastards, and for once, they're right; he's hiding something from them indeed. Neji mentioned the threats to Hyuuga personnel, but he hasn't said a word about the blackmail. He still doesn't know what he's going to do. The idea of bowing to blackmail makes him sick with anger; but there are people the assassin will target who have never done anything to Neji. If all that's asked of him to keep them safe is some information about people who aren't working here anymore...

He'll put those other people in danger, though, and he isn't sure they deserve it either -- even though that one lab assistant with bristly, pony-tailed hair and too many arms really deserved the punch in the throat Neji gave him. Being a smirky asshole isn't a hanging offence. Neji needs to know what they were working on. There had to be something for them to interest the assassin.

Except he doesn't have the clearance, even on a normal day. Being officially on sick leave, he doesn't have any clearance at all. And he's not about to go snooping around blind, either, with his injuries and no idea where to start. There isn't anything he can do, but sit on his bed and wait. And wait.

The sound of his door opening is a welcome interruption, but only until Neji recognizes his visitor.

"Stay seated."

"Sir," Neji says, as he gets up to stand at attention anyway.

The Hyuuga CEO is alone; that's somewhat unusual. Even inside the compound he rarely walks around without at least one advisor or secretary.

They double as bodyguards. The Hyuuga clan gets paranoid at the idea of losing Hyuuga Hiashi.

There have been times Neji has thought about killing him himself; but the second Hiashi's thought process stops, Neji is the one who will die, and he hasn't yet found a loophole for that.

"How are you recovering?"

Neji doesn't blink. He knows that Hiashi could read the doctor's report if he felt so inclined, but that's a conversation opener like any other. "Well enough. I expect my hands to be healed in a week." The rest is nothing but minor annoyances, more visually impressive than truly hindering. It still burns a little when he breathes, but that doesn't matter.

Hiashi nods in acknowledgement. He stares at Neji with too-pale eyes; he should be blind, but that's what corrective gene therapy is for. Neji's eyes were fixed the second he was old enough to tolerate the procedure.

"Was there something you wanted?" Neji prompts. He doesn't feel like waiting. "If it's about the intruder, I haven't remembered anything new yet."

Hiashi is watching him, thoughts hidden behind his customary stern expression. "I don't doubt that you would have informed someone had it been otherwise."

That wasn't a question, so Neji doesn't reply anything; but he's starting to get a little more wary than he usually is around the Hyuuga CEO.

Hiashi is still just as direct when he continues, but there's an oddly quiet nuance to his voice now. "They're thinking of making another spare."

Oh.

Oh. Neji is becoming too divergent for his original purpose. Too divergent to merge seamlessly with Hiashi's thought process. Too divergent for that strange headspace, that mental perspective Hiashi triggered in himself, that makes him so invaluable.

... It's good, isn't it? Neji was right. He's different. He's his own person. It's good.

He's not sure how much longer they'll find him all that useful; he's a good security agent, he'd make a competent bodyguard if he was allowed to take risks -- the other spare still has to grow up. Fifteen years, at least.

Fifteen years of proving his usefulness and loyalty to a corporation he hates, a family he only belongs to on his fake papers. Fifteen more years of being the spare, the empty puppet.

It's not long enough. It's never going to be long enough. The uncertainty was bad enough; having a timeframe is worse.

"Are they --" sure that he's that bad off? Well of course they have to be damn close to sure. "--There haven't been any tests."

"They don't need to."

"I wasn't aware the divergence was that bad." Neji is proud of the way his voice barely cracks.

"You haven't made it a secret."

Neji flinches, just a little. It sounds like a reprimand. "... My attitude hasn't been the best," he admits coolly. "But surely you went through puberty too."

Hiashi shakes his head, slowly; at first Neji thinks his original means that he never rebelled, and it's hard not to call him a liar to his face.

"You know I am the only person I cannot see."

Neji stares at the man. For a second he wonders if he heard the odd declaration right -- or if perhaps Hiashi feels like philosophizing today. But philosophy isn't something Hiashi has ever been very fond of discussing with Neji, and his tone of voice is as no-nonsense as ever. No, Hiashi is talking about a quantifiable aspect of reality, and Neji is pretty sure that he isn't saying that his eye surgery is having the oddest malfunction Neji's ever heard of.

He's talking about his other kind of sight.

"And yet."

He's seen. He -- what did he see? What does he know? Does he know that Neji lied, does he already know what he's going to do? Neji hasn't even decided anything yet.

"Do you --" Neji can't breathe; his throat is dry. "The choices...?"

Hiashi gives a curt shake of his head. "You're still too indistinct."

Neji doesn't know if he should apologize, confess, deny, pretend he doesn't have a clue. He doesn't have to figure it out; Hiashi turns away.

At the door, he pauses, turns his head just a little, doesn't quite look back.

"I know that the only safe choice is the one you won't make. Tread carefully."

The white door closes, leaving Neji alone in the white room with nothing but white noise for thoughts.

When his fist hits the door, the pain flashing up his arm to flood his head is as red as the smear of blood on the panel.

* * *

Next Sasuke chapter is half-done, but I need Kabuto to be talking to me, and he isn't. Nngh. 


	11. Sasuke : Chapter 10

-Thanks to Helena (umi no hikari) for the quick beta. :3

-I edited chapter 2 a bit to add some tiny foreshadowing and did some minor tweaking to other chapters. I know the thing with Neji's uncle still seems to come out of left field, it's my fault, but I can't figure out where else to add some mentions. I lose. :sigh:

-This is mostly fallout from the previous scene, along with some vague hints of plot. I have another chapter written (mmm sasukenaruto interaction); will post, um, maybe next week. I need to figure out where the plot is going first.

* * *

Sakura usually isn't physically assertive, so when she swoops in on Sasuke in the corridor and tries to herd him toward the break room, he's startled enough that he stops moving entirely -- which means she ends up not moving him anywhere. She looks too worried, too harried to really notice; she tugs on his arm again. He doesn't really appreciate being touched without warning, but he doesn't want her to realize exactly how much heavier he is than he should be, so he follows. 

She closes the door behind them, smoothes down her white coat, and then she crosses her arms as though trying to hug herself instead. Sasuke stands in the middle of the room and watches her, waiting.

"So..." She smiles; it doesn't last. "Did you speak with Naruto?"

Sasuke frowns. So that's what this is about. "Yes."

She flounders for a second, visibly expecting him to elaborate. He merely gives her a stubborn look in return.

"Well... Are you still angry?"

Sasuke isn't angry, exactly. Annoyed, maybe even verging on exasperated, but that's it. Still, he doesn't want to let Naruto off the hook quite so easily.

"I still don't like it, no." He frowns at Sakura. "He told me that he has no legal ID. Why?"

Sakura gives him a faintly reproachful look, as if disappointed in Sasuke for asking; he's not sure why. "I never asked. If the reason is good enough for Doctor Tsunade, it's good enough for me."

"Huh."

"He's not a bad person, Sasuke, so what does it matter if he has no ID? Many people around here don't use one."

Sasuke's scowl deepens. "That good person killed someone yesterday." He shakes his head before she can retort. "Perhaps it was self-defense. Perhaps it was in defense of Miss Shizune. Perhaps it was simply out of anger, or he just felt like it."

She stares at him. "Do you really think so?"

Naruto told Sasuke he has never killed apart from in self-defense; Sasuke hadn't noticed any telltale that proved he was lying. "I don't know. The point is, I'm not a judge. You aren't a judge, either. If he's innocent, then standing before a jury should not be a problem."

Sakura huffs, looking both hurt and annoyed. "It shouldn't, but it is. He could easily end up arrested, and locked up without anyone even judging him for the -- the murder."

She pronounces the word as if it hurts, but at least she doesn't shy away from it; he can give her that much.

"If they lock him up, doesn't that imply that he's guilty of _something_?"

Sakura shakes her head vehemently. "Guilty, or inconvenient? Or maybe just not rich enough to have a judge in his pocket. How many people end up in jail because the judge, or the cops, didn't like their face? How many more people end up right back on the streets after they put someone in the hospital or worse, because they're affiliated with some mafia or other?"

Sasuke's fists clench. He's not blind; he knows about the corruption of their society. He was in the streets as the Uchihas were destroyed one after the other and people rioted. He heard their grievances. He was around police chiefs and mayors, he has ears and eyes and a brain; he knows. He _knows_.

But there are goals -- there are ideals -- that everyone should strive towards nevertheless. He's not sure what kind of personal problem Sakura has with some fallible part of the system, but her view is still unacceptable to him.

"Just because your neighbor does something wrong and isn't punished, that doesn't make what he's doing any less wrong. Just because you do something right and the judge -- who is human and therefore fallible, and _punishable_ -- does something wrong and punishes you doesn't mean what you did is less right."

"No, but it makes you _stupid_,if you had the opportunity to evade that judge's notice and didn't!"

Sasuke's eyelid twitches. It has never done that before; that makes him pause long enough to track down the source. Semi-automatic physical cues, subfolder: annoyance. Appropriate, so he forgets about it. "That implies you have proof Naruto never did anything bad to end up without legal existence." Naruto himself told Sasuke he hadn't committed murder, robbery, or espionage; Sasuke's sensors assure he's telling the truth. But. "You know that if he isn't taking steps to correct it, then it couldn't have been an accident."

Sakura sighs, and sinks into the couch without warning, shoulders slumped. "Sasuke... I didn't want to fight with you. I just --"

"... I'm not angry at you." Naruto is her friend, after all; her refusal to believe ill of him is only to be expected. "But you're biased."

She stares at him, and then she sighs and rubs her temples. "You're right, I'm biased. But I only see two reasons for Naruto not to use any ID. Either he did something bad, or he knows something he shouldn't and he doesn't want to be found."

Sasuke hadn't let himself come to this conclusion, but he agrees with her.

His army subroutines do, too -- and for a moment, he doesn't know whether he should allocate more processing power to the program keeping them at bay.

Three years ago, he wouldn't have noticed the difference between justice, law, and government directives. Knowing too much... It's a risk to the government, yes -- but in itself, it isn't a crime. Is it? Only if the furry broke laws to get that information, or looked for it with malicious intent, perhaps. Maybe Naruto was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Maybe he wasn't. Sasuke -- the part of him that's Sasuke, not just UG-7-SA -- has a hard time thinking over all the noise in his head.

The government -- he can't _not_ believe it, it's a fact he was born with -- is always right and just. The government -- it's a fact he's seen with his own two eyes -- is not always right and just. The government is made up of individuals, who might make mistakes, or go corrupt, but it's still necessary and should still be kept safe. That the government might have been put at risk through no fault of Naruto's part isn't enough justification to neutralize him.

Not on a "might," at least, he amends, when the line of thought fails to calm down the subroutines.

Sasuke really wants these old directives out of his head. He's not government property anymore -- he's an AI; he's a legal person; he's free. He's sick and tired of having his thoughts hijacked until he can't tell where he ends and where they begin. It makes him want to go the other way just to prove he can... But that's not good either. That's still defining himself around them.

"... Sasuke?"

Sasuke closes his eyes briefly, aware that he has stared at nothing too long. "Mitigating circumstances or not, I have evidence that he's capable of doing 'something horrible', and none proving that he knows something he shouldn't."

Sakura looks up at him and doesn't say anything. He stares back for a few seconds, and then he turns away. He's not good at reading subtle facial expressions, but this one isn't subtle at all. She looks like she thinks Sasuke is about to burst into Naruto's shop and throw the furry into the execution chamber himself.

"... He's _nice_," she pleads, voice shaking a little. "He's goofy, and loud, and annoying, but he cares. He really cares. He's friendly and funny, and he boasts all the time, and he plays with children like he's still one himself, and --"

"Sakura." He sighs, too. This conversation would give him a headache if he could get one; the tangle of ethics, opinions, and feelings in his head is so jumbled that there isn't much difference. "That's circumstantial evidence at best."

"But--"

He capitulates. He's only upsetting her, upsetting himself, and not getting any solid evidence for or against his decision. "I'm not going to report him." Not before he gets more information, anyway. And then, he'll see.

He doesn't know what he'll do about his arm if it turns out that he does need to arrest Naruto. He hasn't found anyone else who has the competence and materials to repair him.

"... Really?" Sakura's stunned look transforms into a widening smile.

Sasuke twitches. "Not because of anything you said. But I need him. I'm ignoring my" -- prime directives -- "personal ethics in favor of base selfishness." He isn't sure which one he really is ignoring. But he's still compromising _something_, and he doesn't like it. It rankles that she's grateful for something that makes him feel dirty.

He doesn't want to keep talking about it. It won't change anything, anyway. He's glad when he hears footsteps in the corridor; it gives him an excuse to stop Sakura when she opens her mouth again.

When Kabuto walks in, Sasuke is clocking in, perfectly normal but for his refusal to acknowledge Sakura; and Sakura is huddled on the couch and watching him sadly.

"Good afternoon, Sasuke," Kabuto ventures, after a curious look at Sakura that Sasuke pretends not to see.

Sasuke grudgingly nods a greeting at him. "Good afternoon." He leaves the room without waiting for an answer.

* * *

Several patients have been transferred to other clinics after yesterday's attack. Now that the waiting room is empty of rubble and broken chairs and the only duty left is watching the door for suspicious characters, Sasuke is becoming an adept at managing rustling, flyaway paper. He can fold, unfold and refold the newspaper to present the next article in three seconds twenty-five, with minimal wrinkles. 

The journal itself takes a little longer to read. Switzerland's secession attempt is slowing down, the gang wars have flared up again after Song Jianguo's funerals, and they've found three badly mangled bodies that might present the same inner lesions as those found on the Not-So-Spontaneous Immaculate Beach Deaths. They don't know yet; the bodies are too damaged to tell easily. There are still corrupt politicians, still rapes and drugs and pedophilia and animal cruelty and holdups and neighbors who hate each other too much to just leave.

Their society is headed for a crash, he can predict that much. And somewhere in a corner of his mind, he knows that Itachi giving the country such a terrible blow only sped up things by a few years. Sasuke's still going to find and terminate him, though. He can't stand the thought that Itachi is still around, when he's the reason why so many others aren't.

" Ah, Sasuke."

Sasuke glances behind him and arches an eyebrow. It isn't like Kabuto to come chat with him when Sasuke is manning the door; there is no shortage of little tasks to be done around the hospital.

"I'm not bothering you, I hope?"

Sasuke scans the waiting room; it's mostly empty, except from the usual hobo sleeping in a corner. He's almost done with the newspaper. The horoscope can wait. "No."

The man stuffs his hands in his pockets and smiles sheepishly. "I know it's going to seem nosy, but... Is there something wrong between you and Sakura?"

Sasuke frowns. At least, to Kabuto's credit, the man is upfront about fishing for information. "What did Sakura say?"

"She was too busy to talk much." Kabuto's voice grows quieter, more subdued. "She tried to tell me it was nothing serious, but to be frank she didn't look like it."

... But Sasuke _told _her he isn't going to do anything to Naruto. What more does she want? He doesn't get it. He frowns.

Kabuto smiles sheepishly and rubs the back of his head. "I know we aren't really what I'd call close friends, but if you had a dilemma, I wouldn't mind helping you sorting it out."

"... Do I look like I have a dilemma?"

Kabuto winces, and grins. "Well... you might? That, and Sakura didn't seem very happy with you, which I found rather unusual."

Sasuke frowns more. Kabuto's been watching enough to know what's usual interaction for Sasuke and Sakura, and Sasuke never noticed. "You're observant," he says, neutrally.

"Why, thank you. I just think that it doesn't hurt the work environment to be attuned to your coworkers' feelings."

Sasuke supposes caring about people's feelings and harmony is the mark of a good orderly. They're supposed to be supportive and want people to get better, after all. More proof that it isn't his calling. "What do you think about Naruto?" he asks before he can talk himself out of it.

"Naruto?" Kabuto looks surprised by the angle Sasuke is taking. He takes off his glasses and starts cleaning them, thoughtful. "A nice young man. Enthusiastic, very sincere... Is there a problem with him?"

"... Not really."

"You're living with him at the moment, right? I thought I heard Sakura mention that..."

Sasuke nods, wondering why Sakura would feel that detail significant enough to mention. People make small talk about the strangest things.

"Ah, feel free to tell me not to push, but is the problem of a ... Romantic nature?" Sasuke didn't expect that; he stares at Kabuto, who scratches his jaw and elaborates. "... Jealousy? She and Naruto were rather close, and now, she and you..."

"Why would Sakura be jealous of the fact I live with Naruto? He drops in here all the time. It's not like I'm monopolizing him."

Kabuto seems torn between embarrassment and laughter. "I didn't mean that, exactly."

"It's not romantic." Sasuke lets distaste color his voice. Romance, hah.

Kabuto is still amused. He coughs, cleans his glasses, lip twitching. "Alright, alright. Well then, I'm stumped. I won't push, you seem to want to keep it to yourself--"

"What did the police say to you, yesterday?"

Sasuke watches him closely, watches the surprise on his face, the smile melting off in seconds. He would feel bad, but he needs answers, and Kabuto did volunteer.

"...About?"

"The men you shot dead."

Sasuke thinks belatedly that maybe he should have been more tactful. But it's a little hard to ask questions about killing people in a sure-fire unoffending way.

"Ah... It shouldn't go to trial. It was clearly self-defense."

Kabuto's voice is quieter, a little subdued. Sasuke turns away to watch the waiting room. The sleeping hobo is still in his corner, but there's another one looking for a good spot now. Sasuke keeps watch, not wanting to scrutinize the other man now.

"Did you see what Naruto did?"

Kabuto nods, now seeming to understand where Sasuke is going. "Some of it."

"What was it, for you?"

Sasuke sees Kabuto watching him from the corner of his eye. He's -- sad? -- serious? Grave? Not really gentle -- commiserating? Sasuke is hard-pressed to name it.

"He rescued Shizune. He risked his life to tear her free. That's what I saw." Kabuto sighs, gives him a curiously chagrined, brave little smile. "He was in more direct danger than I was -- I had a gun. Perhaps I should have threatened them before they started to move, maybe that would have stopped them..."

Sasuke shakes his head. He doesn't want to listen to Kabuto telling him that perhaps his act of self-defense wasn't as necessary as it should have been. The police officers in charge of studying the matter cleared Kabuto; Sasuke doesn't want to start second-guessing them. "Alright."

It still bothers him that Naruto won't even have to justify his actions, but Kabuto's argument is rational. Naruto put his life at risk to protect that woman. That makes Sasuke's decision not to push it for now a little easier to swallow.

"Sasuke?"

"I'm thinking."

"Ethics are a tricky thing, aren't they?"

Sasuke blinks. How did he guess -- ah, he supposes there were clues. Still, insightful. "...Yes. They are."

Kabuto smiles. "Well, as wiser people have said, 'measure twice, cut once'. There are decisions you can't unmake, after all, so you should make sure to have as much information as you can before doing anything definitive."

"Hm." Well, it's good advice. Sasuke nods decisively. "I'll do that."

Kabuto grins at him, gives his shoulder a little pat. "I hope you sort out your problem, Sasuke. And on that note, I'm going to clock out, my ride should arrive about now."

He walks off to the office before Sasuke decides whether it's appropriate to thank him for the advice, and walks back out just as briskly. Sasuke opens the double-gate for him, nodding in acknowledgement, and hopes that's enough.

Kabuto's ride has the exquisite face of a porcelain doll. A small, pouty mouth, a heart-shaped face, long, silky black hair. Artful makeup that reminds him of a geisha. Hm. Strange that someone as... boy-next-door as Kabuto would know such a sophisticated woman.

Her golden eyes linger on him for a few seconds before she turns away and drives off.

* * *

**And as a bonus for having waited so long... PREQUEL: a few years before the start of Crossed Wires.**

--

Kakashi hasn't slept a lot in the last three weeks. There was no time. There rarely is, when your society does its best to implode and you're stuck doing damage control. So when he drags himself out of his apartment after a six-hour-long night -- sinfully long -- he isn't exactly what one might call alert.

He trips on the young man sitting in the staircase, and takes a nosedive. His reflexes are on a cruise somewhere in the Pacific, along with his spatial awareness and all the sleep he hasn't been getting, and he reflects with some vague annoyance that his plans didn't include spending the next month in the hospital.

A hand presses against his chest, halting his fall, supporting him like he weighs nothing at all. He catches the handrail, wobbling dangerously over his unexpected obstacle. They give each other an upside-down look.

"Sir?"

Kakashi sighs and pulls himself upright with the handrail, letting the young man get up. "I didn't expect you here."

UG-7-SA is one of a dozen Uchiha police-bots who were posted at his police station when that Secret Services unit went rogue and started terminating all other Uchiha units it could get its hands on. Last Kakashi heard, SA is also the only one left, due to the other units going out on patrol and never coming back. No one knows how SA keeps dodging the bullet. Not that they really have much time to think on this mystery, what with their country deciding that this is the best time of the year to riot.

Their rookie android is on Kakashi's doorstep and not, as he should be, on patrol or at the station. And if he were carrying a message, he would have knocked.

He's not wearing a badge.

Kakashi might be half-asleep, but he knows what this is about even before the rookie-bot says it. Their superiors don't think he's going to dodge the bullet forever, and they don't want him to be anywhere near by when the rogue unit finally comes to fix its oversight.

Maybe Kakashi should have expected it, both the dismissal and SA turning up on his doorstep -- very few cops treat the brand-new Uchihas as anything but machines; not that this is unexpected, because it takes them a while to behave as anything but. Kakashi treats the rookies the same as the older Uchihas, though, the same as the other, human cops. It doesn't cost him anything, and it helps them reach the AI threshold faster.

He might be fond of them, too, a little.

"Sir, I..."

The rookie-bot frowns, clearly confused -- lost. He doesn't have a clue how to say, 'Help, I don't know where to go'. He doesn't even seem to have a clue why he came to Kakashi in the first place.

Kakashi goes back to his door and unlocks it. "Come in," he says, before the kid can get frustrated by his inability to explain. "You can stay as long as you need, Sasuke."


	12. Sasuke : Chapter 11

**I don't know where this sideplot comes from and I'm not sure how it will impact the rest of the plot. ****It wasn't planned. But it's making the fic fun to write once again, and right now that's all I care about. Oh well, I'm already flying by the seat of my pants anyway.**

Thanks to Mandy for the help with the beta. :D

* * *

"--do you hope to accomplish?"

"--on't know -- something! There must be --"

Sasuke goes still in the middle of the empty corridor, two steps away from the elevator. It's the top floor of the hospital -- more of a house that sits on top of the hospital's roof than a normal floor, really. It's where Doctor Tsunade has her private office and her personal apartment.

He didn't see Naruto coming in through the front gate, which he was manning until a couple of minutes ago. That's a short time to get inside, climb to Doctor Tsunade's office, and get into an argument with her, especially since Sasuke is using the shortest path and hasn't seen even the tip of his blond tail.

"-- can't just sit here and pretend--"

"Naruto! Stop being an idiot, how -- stop -- stupid -- out of control, what can you _do_?"

"--on't know, _help,_ maybe!"

Sasuke blinks thoughtfully at the door. On one hand, he has orders -- Shizune has paperwork she needs Doctor Tsunade to sign. On the other hand, this sounds like a private disagreement and maybe he should let them finish -- they sound exasperated and worried more than truly angry at each other. He doubts they're about to get violent.

Also, he's still annoyed at the amount of things he doesn't know about Naruto. Eavesdropping on his employer doesn't sit right with his sense of ethics, though, so in the end, he knocks.

Doctor Tsunade and Naruto are facing off over her desk. In between them, spread across the piles of late paperwork and part of her keyboard, is today's newspaper. Naruto is doing some vigorous pointing at one of the articles, but the angle is wrong for Sasuke to get anything even when he zooms in.

"Seriously, I can't just--"

"Sasuke. What did you want." It isn't a question. Tsunade's voice is flat -- a warning, both for Sasuke to be quick, and for Naruto to keep quiet.

"Shizune needs this signed." Sasuke steps closer and hands her the forms.

Naruto is already folding the newspaper, hiding the article. Huh.

The woman huffs in annoyance and sits down heavily. "I'll bring it down; go back to your duties. Naruto -- get out. I'll talk to you tomorrow." Sasuke wonders if the sentence ends in 'when I'm not feeling the need to hit you with my medical dictionary anymore.'

"My shift is over," he reminds Tsunade; he doesn't need her angry at him when she realizes he's not at the door anymore.

"Good! So you can walk that idiot home and sit on him. Make him work on your arm, make him build you a little tricycle, I don't care. Now shoo!"

Naruto snarls, incensed. "You shitty old hag!"

"_Out_."

"If you think you can just -- just -- argh!"

The woman leans back in her chair, legs crossed, and gives Naruto a cold, unimpressed stare. "Naruto, do I have to pull out the dog whistle?"

Throwing his arms up in disgust, Naruto stomps out. Sasuke follows, more slowly, nodding a goodbye at Tsunade. Pondering the clues he caught, he joins Naruto, who is fuming in front of the elevator.

Something happened in the paper that Naruto has insider info about. He wants to do something about it. Tsunade thinks it's stupid -- dangerous, maybe? She wouldn't get angry otherwise.

Also, she knows about the job Naruto is doing for Sasuke, but maybe that's not too surprising; they're close, after all. Maybe it just came up in a casual discussion. It doesn't mean she knows more than the fact he happens to need an arm.

He waits until they're in the elevator before he asks. "What was that about?"

Naruto gives him a sour look. "You heard, huh."

"Naruto, if there had been anyone else on that floor, they'd have heard, too."

Naruto grumbles something uncomplimentary under his breath and kicks the elevator's wall, blue eyes flashing. "Nothing important."

Sasuke arches an eyebrow. That didn't sound like nothing important to him.

"It's just -- of all people, she should understand why I -- argh!" He breathes out, rakes a hand through his hair, and sighs. "It's just some dumb personal shit, don't pay attention."

"Mmh. Can I see the paper?"

Naruto stiffens. "No, you can't."

The first thing he does upon leaving the elevator is to throw it into the trash bin.

The first thing Sasuke does when he pops into the staff room to clock out is to pick up the copy Lee abandoned on the desk. When he stalks out to catch up to Naruto, he's already unfolding it.

Page five, a full one; a photo, several sidebars. Another Beach Murder. Another body, male, thirty-three, cyborg -- both arms redone with black chrome armor, a "bruiser" model; died of massive internal trauma that isn't explained by the couple of scrapes and bruise on the outside. The implants were "heavily damaged;" the article doesn't expand. There are theories -- toxins, new virus, experimental sonic weapon, animal attack, even an interview with a neighbor who rambles on about hexes and curses and 'el mal de ojo.' The only revelation is that most of the previous victims were cyborgs, too. Maybe all of them; it's hard to say when so many bits are missing or pulped beyond recognition.

Naruto glares at him resentfully when Sasuke catches up at the door; Sasuke doesn't bother looking guilty.

"If you know something, why don't you--"

Naruto growls and stomps down the street toward the closest subway stop. "Don't tell me to go to the cops."

Sasuke grits his teeth. "It's a _serial killer_, Naruto." The furry flinches, ears flattening on his head. Sasuke pushes. "If your little life is more important than _that_, you could at least give an anonymous tip!"

Naruto whirls around, grabs him by the collar -- Sasuke locks his forearm blade before it can spring out, though he still elbows Naruto's wrist, forcing the blond to let go of him. Instead of stepping out of his personal space, Naruto just uses his other hand to push Sasuke under an abandoned awning and gets in his face.

"I can't! Okay? I _can't_. So get off my case already. You don't know anything."

Sasuke pushes against the wall and gets in Naruto's face right back. "So why don't you just tell me?"

"What gives you the right to know all my big secrets anyway!?"

"You know mine!"

Sasuke clenches his fists, glaring right in Naruto's eyes. He doesn't remember being so angry in a long time. Naruto's own glare lessens, though, slowly melting off his face. Now he just looks tired. Sasuke knows that's a no.

"Sasuke..."

"Never mind." He pushes Naruto aside and starts back down the street, back stiff, refusing to acknowledge him. He's too angry, too -- he doesn't know. Disappointed. Something close, at any rate.

They climb into the same car. Sasuke stares at his reflection in the window and the tunnel zipping past behind it. He can see Naruto standing a few steps to the side, watching him.

He thought he was all right with Naruto not going to the police about the attack on the hospital. Well, not all right, but that was a compromise he could learn to tolerate. And now Naruto knows what's going on with a serial killer and doesn't even want to warn the police.

Sasuke doesn't think he can live with that.

He ruminates the whole way home. Perhaps the situation is justifiable; but Naruto refuses to justify it, and that makes him seem even guiltier.

Damn it. He should have paid more attention to the difference between unlikable and amoral. Then maybe he wouldn't be so surprised. He knew Naruto was shady from the first day he went to buy some parts the furry shouldn't even have owned. Why did he stop computing it into their interactions?

On autopilot, Sasuke reaches the parts shop, and he still hasn't made a decision. He stands in front of the door, stares at the patchy shack masquerading as a respectable building. If he steps inside, goes to sit in his usual chair, and listens to Naruto's usual babble, does this make him tacitly accepting of the situation?

He has his salary now; maybe he should go live elsewhere. Keep things professional.

When did they _stop_ being professional?

"Hey, Sasuke."

Naruto is standing at his side, hands in his pockets, staring at the front door and making no move to unlock it. "You're right. I should tell you," he says quietly.

"But you're still not going to."

"I would if it were just me, but it's not just my secret."

"It's the secret of that serial killer, too."

Naruto looks away. His tail is hanging like a dead thing. "Yeah." He sounds strangled, about to choke. "Him and a dozen other people or more, who aren't killers and didn't deserve it, but if it comes out they're all going to get it." He sighs, weary. "Listen, can we just get in?"

Sasuke grits his teeth; but when Naruto unlocks the door and steps in, he follows.

At least the blond doesn't try to go around and start in on his little routine, as if nothing special was going on; he takes down the 'be right back sign,' turns the 'closed' sign face out and signals at Sasuke to follow him past the shop, to his personal area. He slouches on his bed. Sasuke takes a stool from the desk and sits facing him. It's so cramped in here their knees almost touch.

"I really wish I could tell you. There's no one else who'd even _understand_. Tsunade knows everything, but you heard her, she thinks I'm being retarded."

It sounds sincere, and that mollifies him a little. "What does she want you to do?"

"Nothing." Naruto laughs bitterly. "Nothing at all. Stay put and pretend it's not happening. Yeah, like fuck I will."

Sasuke frowns. She's a doctor, he expected some more care for the killer's victims.

"I know it bugs her too, but she thinks I'll just go and get killed. And 'it's not my responsibility anyway,' but I don't see anyone else moving their ass! What am I supposed to do?!" Naruto whines in frustration and falls on his back, arms flung out to the sides.

"Let me help," Sasuke replies -- quietly, because he wishes and he wishes and yelling never helps with that.

Naruto pushes himself up on his hands and stares at him. Sasuke thinks he sees a flash of shock, and then... Something he can't interpret. Too complex, too subtle.

"Oh hell, Sasuke..."

And then there's a hand reaching for his face, and he's not sure what's going on, so he doesn't move. Naruto's palm cups his cheek, and he smiles. It's a weird smile, a little crooked.

"Thank you."

... That's still a no. Still an 'I don't trust you enough.'

"Come on, don't make that face -- I'd take you along in a minute. But you've got all that shit in your head, all those subroutines and secret army stuff. And if I tell you, you won't even be able to help it, you'll tell the cops, and if you tell the cops, they'll try to do their duty and they'll all get killed. I'm not going to send them to their deaths."

"So then what do you plan to do?" Sasuke snaps, frustrated.

"... Go there. Fix it." A pause. "Come back."

That was convincing. Really. Sasuke's eyes narrow. "Fix it how?"

"I can't tell you."

"Kill him?"

Naruto closes his eyes and crumples, forehead on Sasuke's shoulder, and Sasuke freezes. "Oh hell, I don't want to."

Sasuke doesn't like the bleakness and pain in Naruto's voice. At all. Ever. It's wrong. It doesn't belong there. "... Then tell the cops about the dangers too. Warn them. Make sure they go prepared. If it's that bad, they'll send an elite team -- they have those, so why don't you trust them to do their jobs?"

Naruto lifts his head and snaps, exasperated. "Like you trust the cops with that guy you want to kill?"

Sasuke forgets to pretend to breathe, and stares back at him, unable to come up with a response.

"... That was a low blow. Sorry. But that -- it's personal. I can't send strangers into it blind."

The gesture is a little more hesitant this time, but Naruto's forehead ends up against his shoulder again. Sasuke shifts his weight lightly, and settles down again. It's strange. But Naruto is visibly distressed, and Sasuke knows that some people require human contact when they're under emotional duress; it's a comfort thing.

"... I don't have enough details to advise any course of action. Is there no one else you can talk with? Shikamaru..."

Naruto shakes his head minutely. "I trust Shika with my life, but he doesn't need that. It's a pretty shitty mess from start to finish, and he's a pretty normal guy. Smart as hell, and he knows there's lots of bad stuff out there, but I still don't wanna fling that at him. He doesn't deserve it. Chouji even less so -- it would kill him. And Sakura, oh god, no. Heh. Face it, Sasuke, you're the only one of my friends who could even vaguely understand, and with that fucking programming I can't even tell you."

"I thought you said it wasn't your secret to share," Sasuke says, because it's the only part of the tirade he can comment on intelligently. Understand? He's an android, and he's horrible at empathy.

... Friend? On the same level as Sakura, Shikamaru, Chouji?

"Yeah, well, it would be different if I was sure that the junk in your head isn't gonna force you to share it."

Sasuke shrugs to dislodge Naruto's forehead and places a hand on top of his head to angle it so the furry looks straight at him. "Stop mumbling into my shoulder. Do you want my advice?"

Naruto blinks, and reddens a little. "If it's gonna be more than 'go to the cops,' yeah," he replies with an awkward little chuckle.

"But you're going to go to the cops anyway. Though hypothetically, if calling them right away wasn't the best option, I'd ask you what they would need to know, so that when you do call for them -- and you will -- they don't get killed."

Naruto blinks, and then laughs. "Hypothetically? Heheh."

Sasuke waits. And consolidates the little program in its little narutorulz folder. It's all theories anyway, because the second he hears enough to be useful to the investigation, he's going straight to the phone and calling in.

He doesn't think too hard about how much "enough" can get relative. They use AIs on the field because they want them to be able to make judgment calls, after all.

"So hypothetically, say there was a group of guys. Got together because they had something in common to bitch about. They didn't hate it for the same reasons, for some it's personal, for some it's about money, for some it's a question of principle, but, you get what I'm saying."

"Political?"

"Eh, maybe. Or maybe it was the taste of broccoli soup. Seriously, what do they put in that shit."

Sasuke arches an eyebrow. Naruto grins, unrepentant. He does seem to feel a little better already. Sasuke is -- relieved. Slightly.

"So hypothetically, if they hated their broccoli soup so much, they would petition, right? But the soup makers don't care, they've got the market cornered. Here, have some mashed broccoli, and puree de broccoli, and some more of that soup. And broccoli cake, happy birthday, you damn kids. Mwahaha."

... Sasuke stares, and wonders, once again, what Naruto's train of thought looks like. He's not sure it's a roller coaster anymore, unless roller coasters have a tendency to jump off their tracks and go for a trip on the neighboring ride's rails from time to time.

"So then petitioning wouldn't work. Maybe if they, uh, okay that metaphor doesn't work anymore. But... Hypothetically speaking, when the petitions don't work, those anti-broccoli people decide to use, well, other ways. And they find people, who they teach to do... Stuff."

Illegal stuff, Sasuke thinks, and then tries telling the subroutines that he's reading too much into Naruto's woeful lack of vocabulary. The subroutines aren't convinced.

"Mm-hm."

"But then imagine the broccoli factory goes belly-up. They wouldn't need their trained people anymore, right?"

"Of course."

"So it probably would be, 'so long, thanks for the help we didn't need, forget we ever did something as silly as protesting broccoli soup, good luck with your future endeavors,' right? I mean, I dunno, but that would only be logical."

Sasuke nods patiently, and tries not to translate it into what it could mean in real life. It's a mental exercise, is all.

"So there's this one guy who does pretty well, and forgets he was ever trained for that shit, and hey, sometimes, if you cook it right, broccoli is even kinda tasty. ...Only the kind that comes from the marketplace, though. Forget about that green puree in bricks, it's hideous."

"Naruto."

"--Sorry, sorry. And there's this other guy, who -- the first guy thought did okay, but -- it turns out... He didn't. Apparently."

"Apparently."

Naruto doesn't seem to have heard much about the other guy since they went their separate ways; he had to learn of his actions through the newspaper. And in the newspaper, there was only one thing to identify him by.

He recognized the way he kills.

He can kill the same way.

Sasuke know it's only a matter of time before he shifts into Sharingan mode again, and once he does, it will be the end. All the amount of 'this conclusion is a baseless leap of logic' in the world won't change anything. He can't unthink it.

Sasuke sits, rigid on his stool, hands at his side, feet tucked behind the metal legs -- with a little luck they'll hinder him a little. "Do you plan to kill him?"

Naruto gives him a sober, dispirited look. "...I don't want to kill him. But if anyone does, it's got to be me."

"That's vigilantism."

"Yep. Somehow I don't think that particular thing bugs you, unless your programming is an incredible hypocrite."

Sasuke shrugs; it comes off as more of a nervous twitch. "It won't trip my subroutines, no. It's not difficult to reclassify as citizen's arrest." Kakashi showed him how, and he had the security clearance to make it count as tacit permission. Sasuke never thought he'd have reason to use it for anyone but Itachi.

"So, say I went out and did some vigilantism..."

"Hypothetically speaking, I assume your -- friends -- would find you going with backup more acceptable than letting you go alone, even if it's not as acceptable as calling the cops."

Naruto shakes his head, and drops all pretenses. "Sasuke... I wish you could come with me, but you can't. It's too dangerous."

There. It's out in the open. Not that it was hidden worth shit anyway, but it's different now. You're my friend. I know the killer. We're the same.

You can't come with me.

Sasuke knows Naruto is too stubborn and not logical enough to accept the argument, but he glares at him and he points out the obvious anyway. "I'm an Uchiha unit."

Naruto doesn't even bother trying to smile. "And he knows how to terminate you."

If the murderer knows, then Naruto has to know, too. Sasuke forgets to put any kind of inflexion in his voice; it comes out unnatural, tinny. "Naruto, don't joke around like that."

Sasuke thinks he doesn't want to die like that, not before he kills Itachi -- but if Naruto lied, then he's the one who's going to die. That's a direct admission of guilt, forbidden knowledge; it's like a tidal wave and Sasuke's not going to hold on.

Naruto arches both eyebrows. "Hypothetically speaking, I think my friend looks like he might need a hacker."

Sasuke's fingers dig into the underside of the stool, denting the metal. "... I think, hypothetically speaking, that if you were going to attempt to hack a Law Enforcement Unit, you would need to do that knock-out trick again. The one you wouldn't tell me about."

Naruto blinks at him, and leans closer to peer at his face with much confusion. "Huh? Knock-out trick? What are you talking about?"

Sasuke glares at him, frustrated and a little scared. He can feel the narutorulz program losing ground. "I mean that trick you used the first time we met, when I was--"

-- Darkness.

He barely has time for relief before he topples onto Naruto's bed.


	13. Sasuke : Chapter 13

_Still alive! _

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Sasuke wakes to an unfamiliar ceiling: cream-colored paint, no cracks, no rust. The table under him is wood, not metal. Even the light is different. For one thing, it's not flickering as if slowly ticking down the seconds till it can implode. This lamp is working fine, ergo, he's not at Naruto's.

His fingers won't move. He can't turn his head. His tongue moves, he can grit his teeth, his vocal box doesn't seem impaired, and he can feel his autonomic functions going -- lung, necessary for speech and to keep his insides clean; gyroscopes -- as if he needs a sense of balance, flat on his back; power accumulators necessary to activate the syntheskin. If someone takes a swing at him, he can go into armor-shift to protect himself. But none of his muscles will respond to any of his commands.

Screw that serial killer. Screw Sasuke's own law enforcement subroutines. Sasuke is going to kill Naruto with his own two hands.

He waits for the yellow warning screen to screech at him about threatening harm to civilians, ready to close it the millisecond it pops up, but it doesn't come.

... Strange. For one second he wonders whether the program somehow recognized it as an expression of frustration without real intent. But it's never been that subtle before -- and the anger and desire of retribution behind Sasuke's words were real enough to deserve a warning anyway.

When he checks his memory banks for the government add-ons, he finds the whole folder wiped.

It's a thorough job. Not a clean one; he can see some broken code and useless info-bots, automatically gathering data for a decision-making tree that isn't there anymore. He searches and he searches, but he can find no program left that will actually _do _anything. No program to berate him for threatening a civilian. No program to demand action for any crime bigger than petty theft.

No program to enforce the Sharingan mode and assign absolute priority to predefined targets.

He's free.

It's terrifying.

"Whatever you do, don't reboot."

The voice makes him blink. His movement sensors weren't tripped; he wasn't expecting it. The man isn't in his limited field of vision, but he recognizes the vocal imprint.

Naruto's friend, the one he gets drunk with. Shikamaru.

There are questions to ask -- what am I doing here, what did you do to me, who deleted that program. Those are not the most urgent. "Where is Naruto?"

Shikamaru sighs, from somewhere to the left of his feet. "Ahh, I don't have a clue. He dumped you through my window and ran off."

Sasuke grits his teeth. Figures. "He didn't say anything?"

Shikamaru's spiky ponytail wobbles into view as he hauls himself from either a low bed or the floor. From what Sasuke gathered from their only meeting, he's been known to nap in strange places. "He said to keep you there until he came back or until next week."

"It's been a _week_?"

He's going to kill him. Kill him dead. Fucking moron went and got his fool self killed. Sasuke's going to hunt down his corpse and --

-- and --

... Oh.

Shit. _Shit_. Not again.

"It's only been two days," Shikamaru drawls.

Sasuke stares at Shikamaru, who stands with his hands in his pockets, a thoroughly chewed pen dangling from his mouth.

"... Why, then...?"

"Because he's an overreacting idiot when it's about keeping his friends safe. Because I figure whatever it is he's doing, he needs backup more than you need your hand held. Because, frankly, I don't know you, and I want him alive and safe a lot more than I'm afraid to see you dead."

Sasuke tears his attention away from his still unstable and conflicting emotions -- anger and fear, memory of grief. He doesn't have the time. And this, right now, wasn't what he expected of the man. Naruto told him Shikamaru was just a normal guy who didn't know anything. He's even supposed to have a nice little legit job and everything.

But someone has to have hacked him, and Naruto already said he couldn't do it.

"You know what I am."

"Sure."

"Since when?"

Shikamaru switches the pen from the left of his mouth to his right. "Since you perched your anorexic ass on that stool, and left the same kind of gouges in the floor Chouji does. I knew Naruto was fixing you an arm, but even four steel limbs wouldn't be that heavy."

Sasuke stares at him in blank disbelief.

"Granted," the man adds, as an afterthought, "I didn't know what _kind_ of bot you were at that point."

That's pretty clear subtext. "And now you do." He wants to hear it. For confirmation.

Shikamaru shrugs and leans against the wall, hands still deep in his pockets. "Now I do."

Sasuke's upper lip curls in impotent rage. "You hacked me."

Shikamaru gives him a heavy-lidded, cryptic look, and doesn't bother denying it. "It was an interesting challenge. No time to do it clean, though, sorry."

A challenge. A fucking challenge. "That's --" Treason, he wants to say, but he's not sure _how _it is; he's his own legal person now, not property of the government anymore. It's still something he could sue him over, he's pretty sure; there have been precedents to treat AI hacking as assault and violation of privacy, but without the subroutines prodding him, he can't quite push himself to place Shikamaru in the Enemies of the State category. "...Illegal. I didn't give you permission."

"There was no time to ask for it." Shikamaru spits out the pen, drops it in a wastebasket, and stares down at him, deadly serious. "I'm not sorry."

Sasuke bristles, literally, the current running through his body making paths where his syntheskin goes from golden skin to sharp-edged plates of steel. Patches of metallic blue-gray scales spread up his side, creep over his cheek and the bridge of his nose.

Shikamaru only arches an eyebrow.

"What do you want to do the most right now? Punish me for that?"

Sasuke is tempted to say yes. But it's not true.

Shikamaru's eyes are full of intent. He expects something. Sasuke might just be able to give it.

"... You'll still be there when I come back with that retard. Won't you?"

The man smirks, just a tiny twist of the lips. It's the first Sasuke's seen on his face today, and it's nothing like the lazy amusement he showed that night at the bar. It's darker, and really not that amused after all.

"I will be," Shikamaru promises, and then something beeps and unlocks, and Sasuke can move again. His first movement is to pluck the datajack out of his neck port.

"Know where to find him?" Shikamaru asks.

Sasuke nods briskly as he sits up, taking in the rest of what he realizes is Shikamaru's bedroom. He rushes through his check-up routine. Everything seems to work. He slides off the desk.

"Remember what I told you. Don't reboot. It's not gone."

Sasuke pauses midway to the window.

"There's a node deeper in, but I haven't figured out how to get to it yet. As long as it's here, the programming will redownload the second you hit the 'net. That's why I blocked your wifi access."

... Shit. No counting on police feeds to track the killer then. He's not sure if he's relieved or disappointed to know that the government subroutines might still come back. They're a hindrance in everyday life, but he's had them for so long, he's not entirely sure how to trust his personal sense of justice. Interpretation is always flawed in some way, after all.

Shikamaru opens a drawer and hands out a handheld datapad to him. "Here. Don't lose it."

Sasuke frowns at the little machine and its bothersome keyboard, so slow and inefficient compared to direct uplink, but stuffs it in his pocket anyway. He doesn't bother nodding his thanks, saying goodbye, saying anything at all. He steps across Shikamaru's bed, making the springs cry out, and then he's out of the window. A fire escape takes him down to ground level, and he runs.

* * *

The train to Jinsha is fast; it only leaves him forty-seven minutes to hack his way manually through the camera feeds around the train station, so he can get an idea of the direction Naruto took. It's a lot harder without his embedded authorization codes, even though they're outdated anyway. He wishes he could just jack himself in the datapad, but there's a chance the program would try to connect through it, which would make Shikamaru's efforts pointless. And the fingers of the hand-that-is-not-his just react too slowly.

He manages to find a low res view of a blond fox-furry. Westward. That's something. Now Sasuke knows Naruto didn't get killed before he even left the train station.

Sasuke is getting up to leave the train when the news stream he was tracking mentions a new Beach Murder, but a harried businessman all but shoves him down on the platform and he loses the signal. Shit. He doesn't even bother glaring at the man, just hurries to the West exit and curses at his sudden inability to notice wireless dead zones before he's right in the middle of them. In fits and sputters, the information stream starts again. "Similar modus operandi," he catches, and "victim in a critical state" -- he relaxes a little. Not dead. ... Also, female. Not Naruto. Even better.

_Shouldn't_ be better, he thinks. It's not ethical to order the importance of victims -- they should all have the same priority.

Shouldn't be, but is. Sasuke walks a little faster.

He works on getting through street camera feeds as he goes, but they belong to the city and not the train company; the security's a little better. And he sees enough furries in the area to know that asking about Naruto would be pointless, two days after the fact. It's common around here -- cat ears and wolf tails and tiger stripes, even a zebra mane down a shirtless guy's spine. About half the people he sees seem to have fangs; he almost feels conspicuous. It would be worse if he wore his usual button-up shirts in the middle of all those tanktops and net shirts, but he's still in his orderly scrubs; it makes him look harmless.

He loses the trail a few streets in; a small plaza, several streets branching off, and no Naruto on any of the feeds. If cursing did anything, he'd use his whole dictionary. He was a cop. He heard enough of them.

He was a cop. What should he do? He can't follow Naruto's tracks, and he doesn't know the name or address of his target.

... Question the victim. The latest one. It must have happened in the last twenty-four hours, or he would have heard, so Naruto would have been around when it happened. Perhaps she knows where he and the killer are. Perhaps she doesn't, but he has to start somewhere.

* * *

This hospital is a lot bigger than Tsunade's glorified clinic. Cleaner and with better security, too. Paradoxically, that makes it easier to get in. They're not hit so often that they need to have every stranger escorted by a pair of burly security men. He just gives his ID to be registered and tells the truth -- he's there for a visit.

"Came straight from work, huh?" the reception nurse says with a friendly, commiserating look.

Sasuke nods; that gives him the time to analyze his snapshot of the admission list. He finds a likely name in the right unit -- trauma ward. "Yeah. Holsten -- room 542, right?"

He expects the alarm to howl when he walks through the detector gate, but the man just arches an eyebrow. "Gotta update your ID."

Sasuke suspects the guy who gave him a 100% meatware pedigree never bothered to have a chat with the guy who didn't allow an ex-cop to keep his jammer. It's better than suspecting it was deliberate. "Yeah," he replies with just a touch of 'man, I _know_.' "The paperwork takes ages to be processed."

And with that, he's in, left to his own devices. He's pretty sure if he 'got lost' in some other ward someone would be there right away to direct him to the appropriate area; but... How come the gate at Tsunade's clinic read him better than this one? He would have noticed if Naruto had installed a jammer in him recently. Maybe Shikamaru?

He starts a quick scan for new hardware, and then aborts it. Jammers are illegal unless obtained via government dispensation; if he actually found one, he would be obligated to stop right there and take it out, and that would blow his cover. Later, he tells himself, when it won't compromise the goal -- a little misdemeanor is nothing faced with a human life.

He weaves in and out of several groups of people -- visitors, patients, actual medical personnel. By the time he's on the fifth floor, the probability that the people in the security room have lost track of him is high enough to take a chance.

The rookie cop keeping watch at one of the doors barely gives him a second glance. He's aware enough of Sasuke, but the scrubs are like a chameleon suit. Same for the plainclothes officer at the other end of the corridor. What Sasuke didn't expect was the well-dressed, heavily scarred man leaning on the other side of the closed door. He has a dark bandanna across the mess that is the left side of his face, and a gun tents his jacket. There's a double-triangle tattoo on his bare cheek, deep red over the swarthy skin.

The victim has mafia ties. _Shit_.

Not slowing down, he reviews his options. Sneak in pretending to be an orderly checking on the patient? He'd be stopped. He has no local name tag, no way to know whether the patient actually asked for anything. No doubt they've had to deal with enough nosy reporters to make them wary of any excuse he could come up with, and that's not counting the fear of the killer slipping in to finish the job.

If he speaks to the cop, he'll be told to butt out and that they'll find Naruto for him if he just stays put. Naruto wouldn't thank him -- least of all for the ensuing mess over his lack of legal existence and his tendency to vigilantism. Sasuke still remember his total conviction that anyone but him would be killed.

He still has half the corridor left to cross when the door opens up and a detective storms out, lips moving in a litany of words that Sasuke reads with little effort. Most of them are in his profanity dictionary. The mafioso's visible eye narrows dangerously; the detective glares at him and gestures at the uniformed rookie to follow him a few steps away.

Sasuke won't have a better occasion. He keeps walking toward the mafioso, looking at him straight-on now. He makes sure to keep his hands visible, though underneath his clothes his syntheskin hardens from soft flesh into metal.

When he stops, a couple of steps away, the mafioso's hand is on his gun, but he hasn't pulled it out. Sasuke interprets it as a 'I'm listening. For now.'

"I need to speak with her."

The scarred man snorts.

"I'm not a reporter. I'm not going to sell the story. You can stand right behind me with a gun against my head. But I need to speak with her."

"A problem?" the detective asks, looking as if he's ready to storm back and throw Sasuke out, since he can't do the same with the scarred bodyguard.

Sasuke sets his jaw and waits for his decision.

"... No, Detective, it's fine." The mafioso looks him over. "Who are you with?"

Him, in a gang? Sasuke sneers. "Myself."

The man's lip quirks up a little, just barely. "She'd know you?"

"I don't even know her name," Sasuke retorts; then he drops his voice so the cops can't possibly overhead, tense and grim. "But she might have seen my friend, and I need to find him before he ends up just as mangled as she is or worse."

The man nods slowly as he takes in Sasuke's words, but he doesn't seem convinced. "You're out of luck. She doesn't remember anything. Post-traumatic amnesia."

Sasuke allows himself a long, totally incredulous look, and an unmasked glance toward the cops. He's not stupid. If she talked about anything that happened, she might give away some of their gang activities with it. They're not going to help him because protecting their illegal activities is more important to them than stopping a serial killer who mangled one of their own.

Hell, maybe they're unlucky accomplices.

"He's not easy to forget," Sasuke says between his clenched teeth. "Fox-furry. Blond. Friendly."

There's a hitch in the man's heartbeat that tells Sasuke he knows exactly who he's talking about. The mafioso's face doesn't betray any of it. If Sasuke wasn't so sure it would end with a hospital patient coming down with a lethal case of lead poisoning, he'd drag him in a corner and force it out of him.

"Let him in," a tinny feminine voice rasps through the bud in the man's ear.

The man's eye narrows, pulling on the red triangles tattooed on his right cheek, and his eyebrow furrows. "...Fine." He points toward the door with a quick jerk of his chin. The cops are staring at them now, but Sasuke and the mafioso both ignore them.

Sasuke walks in first. There's a little vestibule first, with a sink -- he doesn't get to the other door before a hand lands on his shoulder and pushes him against a wall. He was expecting it, and his armor shift is already dissipated, but the man's fingers twitch from the static electricity.

"What are you packing, kid, Hyuuga bioware?" he asks as he frisks Sasuke quickly. No weapons to be found except for a butterfly knife; Sakura just got too worried when she saw Sasuke didn't have anything to defend himself in the neighborhood. The mafioso pockets it.

Sasuke makes a noncommittal noise, though he has no clue what Hyuuga bioware is supposed to be. He's been out of the loop too long. "Does it matter? If I wanted to kill her, there would be easier ways."

"Mmh. Stay by the door. You move in a way I don't like, you're dead. We're clear?"

Sasuke nods briskly, tired of the game already. He just wants to be on his way.

He steps in the hospital room itself, and stops there as promised, feeling the muzzle of the gun pressed against the back of his head. It doesn't matter.

The woman is young to be so high-ranked -- in her twenties, though with the bruises and the rashes on her face it's hard to be any more accurate. Her hair is dirty blond, thick, bristly, gathered out of the way in a messy ponytail. She lies limp and bandaged, as if she couldn't find the strength to get up even if her leg wasn't in a cast. Her eyes, though -- they're clear. Sharp.

"Baki, close the door."

Grunting an acknowledgement, the man nudges Sasuke deeper inside the room and complies, then pulls a bug sweeper out of his pocket. It tingles over Sasuke's skin, but finds him clean. The woman pulls out a gun, points Baki at the visitors' chair in silence, and then aims at Sasuke with a steady hand while the mafioso sweeps the indicated area.

"Clean. Detective Huong doesn't seem to have forgotten anything," Baki says, and goes to stand behind Sasuke again.

The woman's hand falls on the blankets, gun still held loosely. Sasuke refrains from asking her if she's got a permit for it.

"Who are you?"

"Sasuke. You?"

She smirks, chuckles, and then immediately regrets it, from the wince of pain she can't fully hide. "Ballsy, huh."

"I just don't care," he replies tiredly. "Right now my priority is finding Naruto before he gets killed. Where did you last see him?"

"What makes you think I've seen him? I might not even know who you're talking about."

Sasuke scowls. "If you want to play games, I'm sure they'll allow you a pack of cards. What do you know about Naruto?"

She arches an eyebrow, mocking. "He's blond. Friendly. Foxy." She's just repeating what she heard from Baki's bug. Bitch. She sobers up before he can snap, humor drawn out of her by the pain. "I might have seen someone like that. Maybe. What would telling you get me?"

"You'd sleep better at night."

She laughs again, softly this time though it's obvious she wants to laugh louder. "Nice try. Secret for a secret, Sasuke. Who are you?"

"An orderly at Doctor Tsunade's clinic. Where was he the last time you saw him?"

"On his own two feet," she replies, and relents briefly. "He wasn't about to keel over or have a wall fall on his head, either. But that doesn't mean much."

"It doesn't," he agrees quietly. "What was the situation?"

Her eyes go wary, shuttered, all amusement gone. "Situation, huh?"

Sasuke is tempted to swear. Damn it, what a stupid slip-up. "...I was a cop for a few years. Now I'm not."

Behind him, Baki doesn't move, but Sasuke can hear his heartbeat speed up as adrenaline starts spreading through his body.

"Uh-huh. Badge number?"

Sasuke closes his eyes briefly. What are his choices? He can make one up, and be found out whenever she gets around to running a background check. Or he can tell the truth, and be found out right away.

"UG-7-SA."

Her fingers freeze over her handheld datapad's keyboard. "... UG?"

He's pretty sure she knows what that means, so he doesn't say anything, just stares at her and waits. A hundred emotions race across her face, too fast to pin down any.

"... You're an Uchiha model."

He nods soberly. He doesn't know what she's barricading behind her blank expression, but it's intense. A bit too intense for simple surprise that there's still one who wasn't terminated. A bit too... involved.

"Shit," she says, with feeling, and then she starts to laugh, and she doesn't stop even when her stomach muscles clench and the pain starts. "My god. My fucking god. Where did Naruto find you?"

Sasuke isn't sure that was a question, and he doesn't much like feeling like the butt of the joke. "I found him. I'd like to find him again, preferably not in pieces."

"You'd _like_, huh?" She watches him with lazy, slightly mocking eyes. "Do you, really?"

"Do I what?"

"Like him. Like anything, really."

Sasuke often feels annoyance, impatience, frustration. But true anger, rarely. He feels it now, and it skews a lot of semi-automated actions. Like his hands, clenched hard. Like his facial expression. He terminates the mood-face connection right away, his features falling back into blank neutrality.

"Did I piss you off?" she asks with faint, mocking disbelief.

He's getting fucking sick and tired of this game. "Not yet, but keep pushing and see what happens. Where is Naruto?"

"What do you think you'll do when you find him?"

He keeps his face and voice blank, though he feels anything but. "Assess the situation and act in consequence."

She makes a vaguely displeased noise. That doesn't tell her anything, but then again she's not telling him anything either. "And if you can't do anything?"

"There's always something to do."

"Like get destroyed?"

"I'll get destroyed creatively. Are you always such a bitch?"

She smirks like she's proud of it, but it doesn't last. "... The killer. What do you plan to do about him?"

Sasuke arches an eyebrow. "_Him_."

The woman narrows her eyes at him, and Sasuke notes that now she's angry too. It's an old anger, more something he just awoke than something he created.

"Yes. _Him_."

"Stop him if I can. But my first priority is to make sure Naruto lives." Then he'll just have to come back for the killer. He isn't going to let cops get butchered either.

"Even if it got you terminated?"

"... If that was in the process of saving his life, then yes." He would not knowingly sacrifice himself for someone else, now that he isn't legally obligated anymore. But _risk _himself... That's different. You can't get anything worth having if you only take the safe paths.

She whistles in fake admiration. "Is that how much you like him, or just your programming?"

A line of armor-shifted syntheskin snakes its way up his neck, curls under his eye.

"Let's put it this way. If I had to dismantle your whole organization single-handedly to save his life, I would. And I could." He takes a step closer, two steps. Baki cocks his gun, but Sasuke doesn't care. It won't go through armor shift. "And I wouldn't give a shit about the body count." He leans over the bed then, voice soft, deadly serious. "As of this morning, there is absolutely nothing left to remind me what is, or is not, appropriate use of deadly force."

_Threatening a civilian is prohibited!_ he expects. The pop-up doesn't come. It's not going to. And if he reaches... if he places his hand around her neck and squeezes... then nothing will happen to him either. His muscles won't freeze. His fingers won't lock. His sensors won't scream negative input until he's half-blind from dealing with sensory overload.

He could kill her just because he wants to, and nothing would stop him.

He's terrified.

He stops moving then, his face so close to hers, and he doubles the locks between his semi-automatic emote folders and his body language. If he shows her anything right now, he loses.

He could kill her. He could kill anyone. Baki. The cops outside. The patients. Nothing could stop him. Nothing.

Only the fact he doesn't feel like it.

He wants his censor program back.

The woman's jaw is clenched tight, her pupils dilated. She's taking him seriously now. Good. _Good_. It means he won't have to prove it.

"... If you insist."

Slowly, he straightens up, still watching her. He waits.

"Know the abandoned industrial area?" she asks. Sasuke nods; he doesn't but he can find it. "Last I knew he went in there with Naruto. Anyone's guess whether either of them came out."

He nods, turns around to leave, pauses. "How does he kill?"

She snorts. "I never could wrap my mind around it."

She reclines in her bed then, still watching him with eyes like a hawk. She's almost daring him to ask what she meant by that -- 'never'. He knows she won't tell him more, unless he's willing to spend the next hour torturing her. He isn't. He has more urgent things to do.

But he knows it's strange, not ordinary. And he knows most victims had defensive wounds. If it doesn't kill him on the spot, he'll figure it out. He walks past Baki and opens the door.

"Be careful, Uchiha. My brother's never been very gentle with his toys."


End file.
